Do What You Have To Do
by Darryl J
Summary: 2 years after 'Grave', Spike stayed in Cali but never returned to SunnyDale. He's about to say goodbye to the left coast for good until someone finds him. Epilogue is up. **COMPLETED**
1. Part I

****Summary: Takes place 2 years after Grave. Spike never returned to Sunnydale. He's on his own and plans to leave everything behind him for a new start. 

****Disclaimer: Joss owns it all except the original characters. 

****Title (and song Adia) based on the song of the same namesake on Sarah Mclachlan's CD _Surfacing. _The effect is better when you listen to her while reading this. That's kind of how I wrote it. 

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!!!!I already posted this but FF.net is really acting up and it booted my story off or something. Not too happy here. Well, for those that haven't read it yet, enjoy. I love reviews and you can drop 'em here or email your comments and suggestions to me at d_jasper77@hotmail.com. 

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DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO

The crowd was typical for a Thursday night; an eclectic mix of young adults, reveling in the freedom the way only accessible to them; and the thirty-something's, so desperately clinging to the final vestiges of their youth. It was a smooth blend of generations with tastes as varied as shells to be found on the city's many beaches. Though most were natives, a handful of patrons made _Blue Song _their last stop before returning to their hotel rooms, 'joyously' awaiting the next day's business meeting or the drive home to San Francisco or Los Angeles. Still others were vacationers, eager to take in the sites and atmosphere of San Diego. 

Despite their reasons for being in San Diego, their presence at the _Blue Song _was virtually unanimous. For the past two years, _Blue Song_ had made a name throughout the city as well as other parts of the Left Coast. It was a place to bare your feelings and instantly feel the weight of guilt, shame or hurt lifted from your shoulders. No one knew why, considering San Diego wasn't frequented much by visitors of the preternatural persuasion. No one ever asked thus no one ever knew that a magical ward had been created around it and when someone spoke or sang, the hurt and pain they felt dissipated into the ether. It didn't go away, but it was greatly lessened and those that harbored the unbearable pangs found that, upon leaving, the hurt was more than tolerable. After leaving _Blue Song, _everyone felt just a little bit lighter on his or her feet. All but one person. 

The scent of tobacco blistered the nostrils of those closest to the door. Being a non-smoking establishment, a sign of smoke meant only one thing. Heads turned as the plume of smoke followed the lithe figure as he sauntered to the stage. Though their women eyed him greedily, the men did not look at him with disdain or jealousy. Those that had seen him perform admired him in a way a kid admired their favorite baseball player or comic book super hero. And he was just that, a super hero; larger than life though his frame was no more than average. But it wasn't just about the physical, though his cheekbones angled sharply as if sculpted from marble and his ice blue eyes pierced your soul. It was the swell of his chest, the confidence in his stride that, despite the sad edge in his voice, presented him as unconquerable. He was a god, standing mightily over the waters like the Colossus of Rhodes, untouchable by even the worst of natural disasters. 

His bound up the steps to the stage was like that of a jaguar. He was both sleek and dangerous. Oh, they knew without question that he was the latter, though no one dared challenge him. Besides, it was not the type of bar where fights broke out. 

When he sat on the stool in the middle of the stage, everyone murmured in surprise. Though he was decked in his customary black, it was more casual in nature than his usual black jeans and boots garb he usually wore. They were replaced with black leather dress shoes and dress pants with razor creases down the legs. A tight black shirt completed the ensemble as it clung to his wiry frame, highlighting his sculpted upper body. 

Looking over the crowd, Spike took one last puff of his fag before dropping it to the stage, smashing it with the tip of his Stacey Adams. _Gotta quit one of these days. Not healthy for me anymore. _He perused the faces that looked back at him. _Good lot 'o folks, _he thought to himself. _Gonna miss it all, really am. _He ran a hand through his brown curls. Though he had forced himself to get rid of the blond mop, his hair was in fact highlighted in spots by platinum streaks. _Couldn't get rid of it all, now could I? _He smirked at the thought. He knew why he hadn't totally wiped the blond hair off the map. No…he wasn't going there. Not yet, at least. He still had a last show for these people. He would tell them about her (though the majority of regulars had already heard bits and pieces of the story). But he had decided that tonight…tonight was the last time he would think about her. 

_Not bloody likely, _he cursed to himself as he grabbed the mike from its steel post and addressed the crowd. 

"Evening', folks. How's everybody tonight?" The crowd responded in true _Blue Song _fashion. "That's right nice, then. I see we have a few new faces in the crowd. Well, I'm glad you could come and you picked the perfect time to drag your nancy-boy arses in here," he paused as light chuckles filled the room. He flashed them his trademark smirk before continuing solemnly. "I say that because," he inhaled a much needed breath, "this is the last time I will be performing here." The crowd erupted in gasps and shouts of 'no, Will' and 'Stay'. The disappointment of the fans warmed his heart. He'd miss them. Even though most of the regulars were only associates, he had made several friends as well. Eddie. Richard. Michael. Warrick. Lorren. Holly. And Rachel. 

Rachel. Spike sighed as he thought about his business partner. Not since the Niblet had anyone accepted him for what he had been long ago. He had told her everything and for a while he had entertained the thought of dating her. But she knew everything, including where his heart truly belonged. She never pushed and though they had shared sporadic kisses she always stopped him before it went too far and every time he was glad that she had the willpower. He didn't want to hurt Rachel like he had hurt _her. _

Shrugging off the thoughts that always brought him to near tears, he focused back on the crowd. He raised his hands and the volume died down instantly. _Still got some of the Big Bad in me, I wager._

"I know this is sudden, but I promised myself that if I couldn't stay away, I'd leave. It's right nancy-boy of me to run and hide, but it's better than facin' her after what I did…"

"What is he talkin' about?" A voice close to the stage asked someone. Spike smiled. _Must be new. _

"For those of you makin' your first appearance her, I am love's bitch." The newbies broke out in chuckles while the veteran patrons nodded their heads solemnly. They, too, had laughed when he had first spouted those words. But after one night of hearing his story, even though he never told it all, was a sobering moment. The pain in his voice, the wavering of his eyes was so raw they prayed that they never felt that sort of hurt. 

After a few moments, the laughter turned to nervous chuckles before ceasing all together. "Glad we got that out 'o the way. Now, I know you have questions. And I have answers, just not all of em, cuz if I did, I'd be back in Sunny…I'd be with her right now. But to answer your unspoken questions, let me tell you a little bit about what it's like to be love's bitch…"

*****

I told 'em everything. Well, not quite everything. Tactfully omitted were the parts my hundred and twenty some-odd years as a member of the undead. Oh, I told 'em I was a killer, a murderer that made Hitler look like the pansy he was. Oh, most of the lot assumed I was some type of assassin. They weren't too far off. Only the part about me doin' it all for the greater good. All other mentioned topics of the supernatural were conveniently left out as well. Dru and Cecily were mentioned and I still called her the Slayer-still, after two years, I couldn't bring myself to utter her name-though I used it as a metaphor at how she killed me everyday with her words and callousness and the simple thought of her. That was definitely true and two years and miles apart hadn't changed that. She was still the slayer, all right, killing me slowly with every passing day. 

I could see they were getting a bit pissed at the Slayer so I tell 'em about how she was right. How I was an evil, soulless thing she could never love, could never trust. 

"Oh, I proved her right that night. All it took was 45 seconds. Forty-five seconds to destroy whatever it was we had built in two years." I feel the lump form in my throat. Oh, I knew exactly how long it was. Some fucked up part of my brain acted as a chronometer, reminding me of how for three fourths of a minute, I was nothing more than an animal. But I can't think about that, I have to keep on. 

"So, you see, ladies and gents, she was right. I was nothing more than a selfish, evil thing. I told her how much I loved her and I'd hurt her in a way no man should ever hurt a woman," that was as close as I was getting to telling them what had actually happened. Some got it, others didn't. Sod 'em all. A part of me feels guilty for thinking that way but another part could give a fuck. 

"I left that night, without a word. 'Ad to. I didn't trust myself around 'er anymore. Those forty-five seconds showed me that no matter how much I had changed, I was still the same heartless killer underneath. I had to do something or what was inside me-the anger, the pain, the fear…the evil-would kill us both. I wanted to find myself." I have to snicker at that. Sounds like some sort 'o bloody ponce lookin' for redemption or some…I sober up quickly, knowing that was exactly what it was. 

Angel doesn't have a soddin' thing on me now. 'Cept that I still look better. He still has the poofy hair and I can pretty much shag a bint senseless to my heart's content and not flip out, Jack Torrance style. But it still infuriates me that the git at one time had what I never will: her heart. 

"Sorry folks," I say, knowing I had fallen into silence for several minutes. Soddin' Peaches. It's not like I don't know it's not his fault, but still…never liked the bloody poof. Makes things simpler throwin hostility his way. I glance at my watch. Quarter to ten. Might as well get this show on the road. Don't wanna stay here any longer than I have to. The pull has become too much and then there's Rachel all with her "Go see her, William". She's been doin' that for the last year and as much as I tell her no, my resistance is weakening. I know if I don't leave tonight, I'll give in. No doubt in my mind 'bout that. Soul may 'ave changed certain tendencies and curbed others, but my resolve as far as it deals with her? Not too good. Never will be. 

"There's a lot of things I need to get off my chest 'ere tonight. Rachel." I crane my neck toward the side steps, and there she is, holding my Slayer so gently. Her dark hair's twisted in an elaborate ponytail that clings to the crevice in the middle of her back, falling to her waist. She is my new dark queen, with her bronze skin and dark eyes that always found the truth of my once un-dead heart. 'Cept where Dru was frail of body (and most times, of mind) Rachel's strong in both. She never takes my crap and delves in the mystical arts of brutal honesty almost as well as yours truly. I trust her with my life and vice versa. I love her, I truly do, but my heart already belongs to another…

"Thanks, luv," I say and pluck my Slayer from her strong hands. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close. "For those uninitiated, this beauty here is Rachel. My best friend. Just happens to also be my partner and after tonight, she will be running things from here on." I give her a gentle squeeze. "She's everything I let her be to me. Without her, I'd never be where I'm at now." I stand up and kiss her chastely on the lips. There are a few catcalls but we ignore it, instead lost in what would be our last goodbye. 

It's hard to look at 'er when we pull away. She stares into me and sees the finality of loving someone and never able to be with them. I know the feeling all too well. A single tear rolls down her cheek and I brush it away. I mouth the words 'I love you' and she smiles at me. When she looks at me like that I just wish I could love 'er with all my heart. A part of me breaks knowing that I can't give her what she deserves. Seems like I never can with women, nothin' new. I will miss her and we'll keep in touch. But I doubt if I'll ever see her again. It's always like that, just too much pain in seein' the ones you love again. 

I watch Rachel as she walks off-stage with her miraculous gait. I blow her a kiss before taking my seat, not seeing her disappear through the door. I cradle my Slayer in my arms with the gentleness of holding a baby, my hands tracing the black calligraphy 'my Slayer' etched into the off-white body. I smile. Besides Rachel, my Slayer has been the only mainstay in my life the last two years that doesn't judge or rebuke me. It's refreshing. 

I strum a few test cords before picking the mic off the floor (didn't realized I dropped it) and replacing it in its stand. It takes a few minutes to adjust and then I'm sitting back down, facing the anxious crowd. 

"What's say we get started?" I ask in mock cheerfulness. Truth of the matter, I'm terrified. Terrified of leaving, of not being strong enough to survive without her. Without any hope of seeing her again, never knowing what becomes of her. Terrified that I'll never find a friend as good as Rachel or the Niblet. Terrified that I'll never find my place in the world. But that's the breaks. I knew it comin' in and I know it goin out. 

"This is a song I sang to my Slayer two years ago. Don't know why, just felt like singing. Guess the poet in me wasn't as dead as I thought…"

_"I died, so many years ago…"_

The night has been great. I've never opened up like this before even though it's my place. Well, it kinda gives me the right to do as I please, like the smoking (quittin' that nasty habit, lungs can't take it). Now, though, feeling the pain lessen with each song I sing, I can't but curse myself for not doin' this before. 'Sides, wouldn't have made a difference. She'd never love me, even the changed me. But I could have saved myself quite a bit 'o heartache. And maybe me and Rachel…

Who am I kiddin'? Even without the pain (that will always be there, no matter what I sing in this place) my heart would still be with her. Am I a soddin' git or not? Don't answer that. I already have. 

I take a drink from the glass Eric brought out an hour ago. I asked him about Rachel. Said she was gone. Guess it's for the better. Not too keen on goodbyes and I figure she's the same. 

I set the now empty glass down and approach the mic again. 

"Well, it's almost time for me to push off, people." I smirk at their groans and suppress the warmth these people make me feel. Always figured the soul'd give me hell and torment for my past life, which it did, by the way. Just never figured it'd allow me to feel this good, too. Or maybe it isn't the soul. Maybe it's the feeling of being treated like something other than a monster does it. Niblet was always like that, treatin' me like a living, breathing person and not some freak. Her mum did too (I miss Joyce). Not even when I was evil were they ever afraid of me. Never. But the others… Stop it, ole boy or your gonna be crying like a poof. Wouldn't want them to see. 

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm not quite finished yet." They cheer lightly, the inevitable goodbye wearing on 'em. S'okay, I feel the same. Just gotta figure out how you're gonna deal. 

"Got two more pieces for ya before I step down. Now, these aren't mine. They're by this Canadian chit. Sarah McLachlan. Right talented she is. Got a knack fer pullin' at the old heartstrings." I give 'em my best sneer. "And the first git that calls me nancy-boy's gonna get a nice and shiny spike right through the forehead. Right then, here we go."

As I strum the first note, I wonder why in the bloody hell I'm gonna sing these two. Not a poofter, but the first time I heard 'em. Well, let's just say the Big Bad can shed tears. They hit a tad too close to home. 

"Oh, just so you know, my Slayer's name's not Adia. But that's not the issue, the feeling behind the words. Just listen up." Gotta do it 'fore I lose my nerve.

__

Adia I do believe I failed you

Adia I know I let you down

Failed is an understatement, luv. I know I can never rebuild the trust I broke. Know I let you down big time. I'm sorry, pet. 

__

Don't you know I tried so hard

To love you in my way

It's easy let it go…

Wish it were easy. Wish it didn't hurt so badly. Wish my way was what you needed. 

__

Adia I'm empty since you left me

Trying to find a way to carry on

I search myself and everyone

To see where we went wrong

The Slayer/Vampire thing is wrong but we almost made it right. Went wrong the day we stopped being friends, though. 

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Cause there's no one left to finger

There's no one here to blame

'Cept me. The Big Bad's all to blame. I know that. 

__

There's no one left to talk to, honey

And there ain't no one to buy our innocence

'cause we are born innocent 

believe me Adia, we are still innocent

it's easy, we all falter

does it matter?

I'll never be innocent. But you and the Niblet…you shouldn't have to deal with the things you do everyday. Both of you have a light that shines. One that should never be extinguished. And there I was, tryin to pull u into the darkness with me…

__

Adia I thought that we could make it

But I know I can't change the way you feel

Wish I knew that then…at least I could've prevented your pain. 

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I leave you with your misery

A friend who won't betray

I pull you from your tower

I take away your pain

And show you all the beauty you possess

If you'd only let yourself believe that

I hope what I didn't doesn't set you back, luv. You are strong and beautiful in every way. Never settle for less than you deserve and that is to be treated like the goddess you are. 

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We are born innocent

Believe me Adia, we are still innocent

It's easy, we all falter, does it matter?

Believe me Adia, we are still innocent

'cause we are born innocent

Adia we are still innocent

It's easy, we all falter…but does it matter?

Does it really matter? Does it matter that I still love you, pet? That I'd die for you and the Niblet a thousand times? Even the soddin' Scoobies. And despite what you probably think, s'not the soul that makes me care. Wasn't the chip either. Course nobody'd believe that. Shit, I didn't either. So convenient when there was an excuse. Run out of 'em now. So what do I do? 

"Last number, folks," I say to the quiet crowd. It's like someone has died. Well, someone is. Someone is dying on the inside right now, right in front of 'em. They see it and I feel it. I take a much-needed breath. I roughly wipe the back of my hand against the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Gotta hurry up. Don't wanna cry in front of the clientele. 

__

What ravages of spirit

Conjured this temptuous rage

Created you a monster

Broken by the rules of love

You always called me a monster and you were partially right. Oh, I was a monster that night but I was nothing way before that. Lovin' you brought the man that I couldn't be forward. Everything I was and believed in was shattered the moment I saw you. 

__

And fate has led you through it

You do what you have to do…

I know what I have to do but I don't know if I can.

__

And I have the sense to recognize that

I don't know how to let you go

That's why I had to go luv. Had you for a moment and couldn't bare not 'avin you all the time. Should've known I'd fuck it up. Even hurt you more than the poof did…

__

Every moment marked

With apparitions of your soul

I'm ever swiftly moving

Trying to escape this desire

The yearning to be near you

Your call to me is more potent than blood ever was. I'll never stop wanting you, but I'll never have you. 

__

I do what I have to do

The yearning to be near you

I do what I have to do

But I have the sense to recognize

That I don't know how

To let you go

I don't know how 

To let you go

A glowing ember 

Burning hot

Burning slow

Deep within I'm shaken by the violence

Of existing for only you

The last four years, it's always been about you Buf…luv. Oh, it's still burning inside me: the passion and the love. And again you were right. It is consuming me, luv, worse than the sun could have ever done. But what am I now? I don't have you, so what am I?

__

I know I can't be with you

I do what I have to do

I know I can't be with you 

I do what I have to do

And I have the sense to recognize but 

I don't know how to let you go

I don't know how to let you go

I don't know how to let you go…

I can't…. I vaguely hear my Slayer crash to the stage but the tears burning my eyes numb me and the only thing I can concentrate on is getting off the stage. I have to leave now. Can't wait till tomorrow or I'll lose my nerve and pant back to her like the whipping boy I used to be. 

I storm through the back halls, towards my office. Just need to get my keys and a few mementos and I'll be on my way. Still don't know where I'm goin' yet but as long as it's away from here, it doesn't matter now does it?

*****

Spike strode into the office, rattling the walls as he slammed the door shut with all his unnatural strength. The shame and guilt threatened to overwhelm him. Of what he had lost. Of how he tried to bring her down to his level. Of how he tried to…he couldn't finish the thought as a sob ripped from the back of his throat. 

"No!" he screamed as he overturned the mahogany desk. Soon to follow was his chair as he hurled it against the bookshelf, the splintering wood ripping the leather fabric of the chair. Like a caged animal, he paced the room, finally coming to rest in front of the full length mirror near the back of his office. 

"Handsome bloke," he said to the reflection that stared back at him before sending his fist crashing through the glass, shattering it into a million pieces. He laughed humorlessly at the shards embedded into his knuckles. He examined his hand with an odd fascination. Even after two years, it amazed him at the rapidity of blood loss a beating heart could usher forth. He flexed his knuckles and winced at the welcoming pain accompanying even the slightest movement of his fingers. Physical pain was the best. It always distracted him from the much more intense, longer lasting hurt that curled up inside of him, ready to stretch its sadistic limbs at the slightest reminder of things past. 

Spike's shoulders slumped in defeat. Not even pouring his heart out tonight was able to lessen the pain. No, he would never get over it, the things he had done. It wasn't the hundred years of feeding that tore at his gut. Somehow, he had understood that despite the thousands of people he had killed in need was just that…he needed what they had, namely blood. He didn't just dismiss it that easily but he had coped with those particular memories quite well. But the others; the senseless killings he had partook in during his un-life would always be there in his mind's eye. Those faces haunted his dreams and appeared almost every night in crystal clarity. The guests at the party before Drusilla turned him. The families of those who had almost killed Dru in Prague. The man whose neck he snapped at the Parent-Teacher night. The look on her face after he had tried to…

He ran his hand across his face, oblivious to the glass as it marred his otherwise seamless features. No amount of running would relieve him of that night. The emotions he saw in her emerald eyes would forever haunt him. Fear. Disgust. Loathing. Disappointment. Shame. Betrayal. But most of all, he saw the pain, her resignation that understood that the only thing people she cared about were good at was hurting her and leaving. 

_Guess you're two-fer-two there mate, _he thought bitterly before running his bloodied hand through his frazzled locks. The heaviness in his chest threatened to crush his heart. He had foolishly thought leaving would get rid of a sliver of the guilt but it only amplified it. He had hoped that getting as far away from her as he could, he would alleviate some of the hurt she still undoubtedly felt that night. 

"Yeah, and I'm still a vampire," he said to the shattered frame. And part of him wished that that were true. It would be so easy for him to watch the sun rise in the middle of the desert, with no where to run and bask in the sun's brilliance for the last time. But it wouldn't ever be that easy again for him. Nothing ever would be. The only thing that came easy now was the pain that not even the _Blue Song _could lessen. Of course, he had a feeling why. Though he suffered immensely with it, he honestly didn't want to be rid of the pain. He wanted it as a constant reminder as to what he was and always would be and that was a monster. He'd wear that badge until the day he died. He'd never forgive himself for what he did and knew she would never forgive him, either. It didn't matter, though. Nothing really did. He had done irreparable harm to her and only hoped that it hadn't broken her completely. No, it wouldn't. She didn't love him so it had to have made his transgressions at least a little more bearable. After all, she knew what he was. 

"Should've staked me then and there," he muttered in defeat, his chin dipping into his chest. "At least then she'd have gotten some closure." His last words were what tugged at him the most. She would never be able to exercise her demons, or in this case, demon and she would never be able to ask him why. But did it matter why? No. All that mattered was what he did. That, and the fact that he had never once apologized. 

" S'only words," he said as he shuffled towards to overturned desk, "Proved myself to her with my actions," he whispered. Back to the door, Spike knelt down and sifted through the wreckage of his tantrum. Glass and plastic from where his computer had met the floor was intermixed with paper and several other items. His fingers walked over the debris until they found what they were looking for. Buried underneath the expense report and a once beautiful snow globe was the picture he was looking for. 

Though the glass was broken, the frame was in tact and the picture for the most part, was unharmed. Spike brushed away the remaining shards before removing the picture from its confines. In it, sitting in the middle of an open field, sitting cross-legged on a blanket laughing, were his two girls. He had taken it his first and final visit to the 'Dale after his African sojourn. It was both the happiest and saddest moments of his life. He hadn't seen her this happy since the first time he had seen her in the Bronze. And the Niblet. God, she was radiant, just like her sister. It warmed his heart to see them together, laughing. But at the same time, a piece of him died. 

Seeing her so happy-_them_ so happy- had only emphasized that he didn't belong, that he was an outsider. They had had a life before him and would have one after him. He wasn't sure what hurt most: the Niblet forgetting about him or her sister's final memories of him. When he thought of his selfishness in this, he only affirmed even more to himself that he didn't truly love her and wondered if he truly could. Oh, he had loved her in his own twisted way but to be hurt that she was happy without him? Could he honestly call that love? 

The thought that he had never truly loved her tore at his heart. Had he wasted his time or more importantly, hers? Had he been tortured for thirty days straight without food and rest only to realize that he never loved her? He chuckled at the irony of it all. Trying to prove he was what she deserved only to discover he was, and always would be, the furthest thing from it. 

He held the picture against his heart with his good hand when he heard the slow creek of the door behind him. He sighed audibly, irritated at whoever had decided to interrupt his personal internal flagellation. 

"Look, who ever you are, sod off," he clipped. He heard a light chuckle that only furthered him to infuriation. His injured hand flexed into a fist, heedless of the pain while his good hand maintained a delicate grip on the picture. His body tensed in the accustomed coil before the strike, accompanied by a matching growl. 

Spike remained still for several minutes, back to the door, hoping the intruder would pick up on the crackling displeasure radiating from him. When it was apparent that the visitor was going no where, Spike relaxed his muscles, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Look, mate, don't you get it. I don't know how to tell you this but…" he stopped in his tracks as his nose caught a whiff of something eerily familiar. He couldn't register the smell definitively, considering his senses weren't quite up to par like they used to be but it was something…cool. Something smooth. Something…

Vanilla. 

"It can't be…" he whispered, fear gnawing at his insides now. He was afraid to turn around because if it was who he thought…But then again, if it wasn't. But he was never able to make that decision as the visitor spoke. 

"I don't get it," the all too familiar voice spoke. Spike's heart stopped as it all dawned on him. Slowly, he turned around to face the woman's voice only to feel her closing the distance between them. 

By the time he faced her, she stood two feet away. Her golden hair was pinned up with intricate curls trailing down the sides of her angelic face. She wore a black dress that hung from her thin shoulders by spaghetti straps. It molded to her body like a second skin, the black accenting her curves fully. Her hands were hidden behind her back. The muscles of her thin legs shone from under her stockings as the heels she wore punctuated the strength of her calves. 

"I don't get what happened between us. I don't get why I'm here. I don't get what I'm feeling," she said, her eyes locked on the shell-shocked man in front of her. She took two steps forward and now they were only inches away. Spike could smell the strawberry lip-gloss she wore in substitution of lipstick and would have smirked if his muscles were his own. But all he could do was stare, desperately attempting to form a coherent sentence or word even. 

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. He still smelled of tobacco though it was not as potent. She also detected an extremely appealing cologne that had taken the once staple aroma of alcohol that permeated her nostrils when she was around him. Slowly, her eyes opened and they took in the man before him before she spoke again. 

"The only thing I know," she whispered, inching closer toward his face. "The _only _thing I know is that I don't know how to let you go…" 

After she trailed off, Spike was finally able to form some semblance of cohesion with his thoughts and he whispered the name that he hadn't spoken aloud in almost two years. 

"Buffy?" 

***This was meant as a distraction from my trouble writing chapter 26 of _Family Ties. _I think it turned out well. Now, let me know if you guys want me to continue. I have several ideas for it but not sure if I will put it down on paper. But, bribery (in the form of reviews) is always helpful. 

***Just a note, I will be posting part II early next week after I finish chapter 27 & 28 of 'Family Ties'


	2. Part II

***Well, FF.net is back and this the second part of the events Post 'Grave'

***Spike never returned to SunnyD, but when he was ready to leave the Left Coast for good, an unexpected visitor shows up.

Do What You Have To Do

Part II

One hundred plus years of life had given Spike more than his fair share of surprises, both of the good and of the bad. The first had been the first times his fangs sunk into the tender flesh of a young man given to him by Angelus. The strength that coursed through his veins was indescribable and, aside from the slayer's, no blood had ever tasted as sweet. Then there had been the years with Dru, everyday a surprise. His dance with the second slayer on the subway was also a pleasant memory. But none of his undead memories were as powerful as the things he remembered about her. When he realized that he was truly in love with her, Spike had felt truly alive for the first time in over a century. That feeling of being connected with humanity only increased when he was around her. All the times they fought--no danced--with only one another as audience. And then there was the time she had walked down those steps, alive, for the first time in one hundred and forty-seven days. He was speechless as if his brain refused to process what his eyes saw. Buffy, standing in front of him, as alive and as beautiful as ever. He knew that he would never feel that way again. 

How wrong he was. 

Spike cocked his head to the side and shook it in disbelief, hoping against hope that what was in front of him was the real thing and not some twisted hallucination. 

"In the flesh," she said softly as her name choked past his lips. The countless emotions he undoubtedly felt peered at her through unshed tears as his warm blue eyes danced over every part of her, taking in every detail just in case it was all a mirage. 

"Buffy?" he asked again and this time it was Spike that advanced, closing the distance even further. Her pert breasts brushed against his chest and she couldn't help but inhale sharply at his proximity. _Even after all this time, _she thought as his breath caressed her skin. It was a mixture of the tobacco and mints. Above all of that, however, she felt the distinct warmth of it all. Not just his breath but the warmth that cascaded off of him in waves, as if he were a living, breathing man. _Or it could just be you, B, all hot and bothered by mister 'give you too many orgasms to count'. _

Buffy blushed as her thoughts had turned to sexual encounters with the vampire before her that had refused to dull even after…that night. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of what he almost did to her and berated herself for the umpteenth time for still wanting him. 

***

As I stare at this man…no, vampire, in front of me, I can't help but feel revulsion at being here, in the same room with him. Not after what he did, or tried to do, to me. But what's worse? The fact that I am still here or that the part of me that is disgusted with him as well as with myself is so small that I barely register that it's there? Who the hell know? I know I don't. 

I peel my eyes away from his, unable to stand up to the questions present in them. Sorry, Spike, can't answer 'em, especially since I can't even answer my own questions. 

I try to look at my hands but I forgot they are behind my back and I am relegated to staring at his chest falling up and down, barely contained by his skin-tight shirt. As I nervously wring my sweaty palms behind my back, I frantically search for something, anything, to say. I don't know why words escape me, considering I had almost a month to prepare for this moment. 

Has it been that long since Angel called me and told me about Spike? I fiddle with the ring that rests snuggly on my finger. Shit, I forgot to take it off. Don't even know why I still wear it…but I'm digressing. Gotta focus on the now, Buffy, not something that's in the past, no matter how recent that past happens to be. 

"Spike," I whisper, finally getting the courage to look once again into his eyes and I cringe at the pain that greets me. A lone tear streaks down his face and I rush to catch it with the tip of my finger. He smiles weakly as I study my damp fingertip. I've never seen Spike cry before. I know the things I have said to him had hurt more than that night I pummeled him out behind the police station, but I never once saw him shed a tear. Was it because he hid the hurt so well or because I always hightailed it out of there before I could bear witness to the heartbroken Big Bad? I really don't know and who cares? It really doesn't matter now. _You're full of a lot of warmth, Buffy_ I smirk as I think back to all the horrible things I did on the to him…

My smirk quickly fades as I feel his fingers tentatively caress my cheek. No! Not just fingers but _warm _fingers. I can feel my eyes practically bulge from their sockets. What's Dawn call it? Oh, my 'deer-in-headlights' look and I can't help but agree. I quickly erase the thought of my doe-eyes as I stare at him questioningly. He stares back, and I can't help but to sigh as his eyebrows furrow in that way only Spike can do. Stop it, Buffy. You feel Spike's warm hands and all you can think about is how cute he is when he frowns? Sick, B, sick. 

"Spike," I manage for about the fifth time. "You're warm." Wow. I'm a freakin' Robert Frost with all the eloquence in that one, huh? He smiles at me, a genuine smile this time, though it lasts about all of two seconds before that lost look of confusion returns. I fight a moan as he steps back and my breasts are no longer brushing against him. He turns away from me and for the first time since I've been in the room, I take inventory. 

He's gained some weight the last two…since I last saw him. And no longer mister clean-shaven, either. But his hair, oh my God, his hair. I had always wondered what color it really was. Something tells me this is how he wore it back in London, though I seriously doubt that blond streaks were in vogue in the 1880s. 

His shoulders are slumped and I glance down at his right hand. Blood is dripping from it and I want to go take care of it but something roots me where I am. My eyes fall to the mess on the floor and I notice a picture at my feet. I bend to pick it up and it shocks me when I see that it's a picture of Dawn and me. I study it intently and feel his eyes back on me. My hands begin shaking as I remember that day. 

"You were there," I say and am proud beyond belief that I keep my voice steady.

"Sorta had to in order for the pic to come out right," he says almost sarcastically. I say 'almost' because something is missing from his tone. I just don't know what it is. 

"No, I mean you were there. I _felt _you. That day." I never take my eyes off the picture but I sense him stiffen just a bit. 

"How…?" he starts but falls silent. 

"I felt you there," I say to myself and bring my hand to my lips to hide the shock of it all. The truth was that I did feel him but at the same time, I didn't. When he left after that night, I knew that if he didn't return, I would feel if something happened to him. That day, I really thought he had met the sharp end of a stick. I knew…I just knew that my Spike was gone. It was similar to something I had felt about a month after Xander stopped Willow and I couldn't place it. No, I knew, but I didn't want to admit it. But the second time, this time that was captured in the picture I admitted it then. I told no one of what I felt and kept it all to myself. I mourned him for weeks, hoping against hope that he would come back, even if I hated him. In actuality, facing the reality that he was dead was what had made my forgiveness of him complete. Wherever he was, I prayed that he knew I had…forgiven him. I had hoped to tell him in person but that was not to be. And (ha), as luck would have it, he's right here in front of me. So, what's stopping me from telling him?

"Why?" I ask and finally look up at him. I notice that his eyes fall to my hand. Shit, he sees the ring. Well, too late now. It's not like I'm really thinking about that now. 

"Why what, l…" he stops before he calls me 'luv' and a part of me breaks. "I mean, you gotta be more specific than that." He smirks at me and runs his bloody hand through his hair. His is desperately reaching for the casual cockiness that always infuriated me but I don't really hear it. I can't quite put my finger on what it is that I exactly hear in it, but it's not good. 

"Why did you do it?" I ask and there's no mistaking the anger in my voice. Well, that and the hurt and pain not to mention the disappointment. Two years has helped me heal a lot of wounds and Garrett had been a big part of that. As I glance down at my ring, I understand that, with some type of morbid certainty, time can't heal everything. Sometimes, only answers will do. 

Spike bristles visibly at the tone in my voice and he hangs his head in shame. Good; he should be, after what he pulled. 

_There is nothing good in you! _I hear myself scream as my fists use his face as a cheap punching bag and I can't help but feel ashamed at the memory. Yeah, he almost raped me, but didn't I do the same to him? The only difference was that he didn't fight back. 

"Buffy," the pain in his voice lances my memory and all I can focus on are his hands. Those same hands that caressed and loved me are the same ones that tore at my robe and bruised my flesh. 

_I know you felt it-when I was inside of you. You'll feel it again, Buffy. I'm gonna make you feel it. _His words careen through my brain and all my muscles constrict at the vividness of his words. The goose bumps litter my arms though that sick feeling that used to accompany me are gone. Thank God for small miracles. 

"Why Spike?" I feel myself losing control but I don't try to stop it. I may have forgiven him for what happened but it still hurts, you know? And I thought seeing him with Anya was bad. 

I stalk over to him and he tries to slink away but there's no where to go. I don't know where this is coming from though I'd wager seeing him for the first time has a lot to do with it. The tension coursing through me is its own monster just waiting to be unleashed and there's nothing I can do except release it. 

"Buffy, please," he tells me, his hands in front of him to ward off a blow. I see the grief in his eyes and I so much want to stop but it's like I'm possessed and need him to see and understand. 

"Please, Spike? Isn't that what I pled to you?" I spit as if his name is some nasty aftertaste that I can't get rid of. The tears are running freely now, ruining my mascara and I see the naked fear and self-disgust in his eyes. _Stop it, Buffy_. But I can't.

"I begged you to stop and you didn't. Why, Spike? What was it that you thought I'd feel? Is that what you always wanted? To fuck me against my will? I mean, you've killed two slayers and banged a third, why not add rape to the list, you know, to complete your impressive resume?" The look in his eyes frightens me and I see the death wish hovering there. I don't even stop to think how a soulless creature could feel guilty and I don't care. The sadistic part of me, the part that almost killed him in the alley, wants him to hurt, to feel helpless, to feel the pain he made me go through. 

"Here," I say and grab his hand and shove it against my breast. The blood seeps into my clothing and I can't help but feel how warm it is. I never take my eyes off his and the pain I see in them makes me falter for one moment. And that one moment is enough to feel the warm flesh beneath my fingers. 

"Spike?" I choke out and all the anger has left me only to be replaced by total bewilderment. That and the fact that I feel like a total bitch. 

"Buffy," he forces out and I understand what it was earlier that I couldn't quite place; Spike's spirit, the thing that made him the egotistical, self-centered, however selfless Big Bad, is broken. It's even worse than when he was on stage earlier. "I am so sorry," he cries and the tears flow like rivers down his cheeks and I instinctively cup his cheek with my hand. 

His eyes drop but he raises them to me and then overlays his hand over mine. "I know you must hate me, hate me more than you have hated anyone and I deserve it. That's why I never came back; I didn't want you to have to face a monster like me, not after what I had done…" He trails off and chokes back the sob building in his chest and I worry that if he doesn't let it out he'll explode. If that happens, I hope that I go with him because I can't…

"You were right," he says and laughs humorlessly, breaking me out of my thoughts. He drops his hands to the side and turns away from me to stand in front of the remains of the shattered mirror. I bring the hand that was against his cheek to my face. I can make out the wet spots where the tears trailed down my palm and I can only wonder…how? How was he warm? How was…

"I was nothing but a soulless, evil monster. I didn't love you…" my heart stops at that and, of course I'm ready to jump to conclusions before he alleviates my concern, "How could I be and 'urt you like I did? You don't deserve someone…something like that and you bloody well don't deserve something like me. You deserve better…" he laughs again but it's filled with irony. "Funny thing is, I knew that before I left. Actually left to prove you wrong, to prove to you that I was what you deserved. The only thing I found out was that I never deserved you in the first place. Some epiphany, huh?" He asks before he pounds both fists into the remaining glass and I jump back just as the glass joins the pile at his feet. He studies the floor beneath him, kneels and I hear the crunch of glass under his knees. He fingers several sharp pieces and my heart jumps in my chest. What is he thinking? What is he going to do?

"Spike." The taste of his name on my tongue is not near as bad as it was two minutes ago. The tension in my body is gone, leaving only a dull ache in its wake. I walk gingerly over toward him and the sadness radiating from his pores is almost enough to drown me, utterly and completely. 

I stand about a foot behind him, uncertain on what to do. I don't know how many times I've said it, but when I look at him, the word broken comes to mind. No, it's more than that and for the first time I understand that the bravado he carried on stage was just an act—just an act to get him through the night. How many times has he done this? How many times has the guilt been too much for him? I'm so concerned about what he feels that I don't even question that he feels it. Warm vampire or no.

"You know," he voice is barely above a whisper, "I used to dream about this day. The day that I'd finally get to see you again." He is silent for several seconds before he takes a deep breath and continues. 

" 'Course in my dream, everything was right as rain. I'd save you from some ungodly hell-beast and you'd run into my arms--smacking me of course, for leavin'. Then you'd kiss me and it was like no kiss I've ever felt cuz you tell me with that one kiss the only thing I have ever wanted to hear; that you love me. Right bloody wanker, I am." He laughs again and I grimace at the pain within it. I shake my head in confusion. _When did this turn into his forum to vent_? I ask myself. _That day in the picture, when you finally forgave him, Buffy_—another part of me answers. Oh yeah, I forgot.

I kneel down, mindful of the glass strewn about, and lay a hand on his shoulder. He flinches at my touch for just an instant before he relaxes.

"How can you touch me? I don't see how you can look at me, let alone touch me." The self-disgust in his words is staggering and I know I have to do something to right the situation before it deteriorates any further. Hell, I'm the reason it got as bad as it did two years ago…

***

Slowly, Buffy reached out her other hand and laid it against the soft cotton of his shirt. She still felt his warmth, but her curiosity towards its source was overshadowed by the deep sense of guilt she felt towards the wreck of a man that was before her. 

_Has it really been two years? _Buffy asked herself as she rubbed the familiarly hard muscles under her fingertips. So much had happened since then. With Tara gone, Willow had stayed in England, with Giles, for the better part of a year. Anya and Xander had gone from hating each other to barely tolerable of one another to actual friends. They still had a long way to go, and neither was pushing for anything more than friendship at the moment. Then there was Garrett. Buffy had met him at her new job at the bank. He had pined over her from day one, though it had taken a bit of arm twisting from Dawn to get Buffy to relent and actually go out with him. The first date had been a disaster and Buffy thought that would have been the last of her and Mr. Garrett but as the light overhead caught the diamond on her finger--well, a lot had happened in two years. 

Shaking off the thought of Garrett, Buffy smiled serenely at her little sister. _Not so little anymore, _she thought ruefully. In three days, Dawn would officially be a graduate of Sunnydale High, on her way out into the world. She was going to attend UCLA in the fall, her major undecided, though she was leaning toward Ancient Studies and Buffy couldn't help but wonder if Dawn's choice had anything to do with helping her big sister. 

The rise and fall of the torso under her palms cut Buffy out of her brief respite into the past and onto the wreck that lay before her in the present. 

"Spike?" She tried to gently turn him to her but he resisted. Buffy's eyebrows furrowed in frustration and she put a little more 'umph' into the gesture and this time he relented. 

"Spike," she said his name again, trying to get him to look at her though she was afraid of what she would see in those blue oceans. 

Clearing some glass away from the floor, Buffy sat in front of the vampire and rubbed her hands up and down his shoulders. Her dress cinched up close to her waist, exposing her black panties but she didn't pay any attention to that particular nuance. 

"Spike, look at me," she commanded, her trademark determination clearly resonated in her tone. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Spike obeyed and looked at her with the most heart-rending look she had ever seen. It took all her will not to bawl then and there but she had to be strong for him, for both of them.

"You hurt me," she whispered and though it pained her to do it, Buffy never broke eye contact. What she had to say would hurt both of them but it had to be said. "You hurt me more than anybody ever has, including Angel." She saw him tense but didn't know whether it was at the mention of his grand-sire or how much he had hurt her. "I really didn't get a chance to think about it, with all that happened. Seeing your best friend want to destroy the world has a way of leapfrogging its way to the top of things most relevant." At first Buffy wasn't certain whether or not Spike knew all of what happened but the sad resignation in his eyes let her know that he did. 

She removed her hands from his shoulders and wrapped them around her knees that were bunched to her chest. It was a ridiculous pose, considering her attire but it gave her comfort and that was all that was important. 

"After…after the funeral and Giles and Willow leaving, I really got a chance to think about things. And you know how thinking and Buffy don't go along too well," she smiled and was glad to see him return the gesture, albeit wearily. "I won't lie, Spike; I hated you. I hated you more than Angelus, more than Glory, more than anything I have ever hated in my life." She gave him a poignant look and despite the fact that with each word he virtually wilted away, he still did not look down. 

"I promised myself that if I ever saw you again, I'd stake you on site. No questions, no pleasantries, no warning. I mean, that's my job, right? --To fight against the vampires, hence the name Vampire Slayer. I thought up so many different things that I wanted to do to you to make you suffer. Spike your blood with holy water, tie you up under a tree so only your legs caught on fire; you know? Just vengeful stuff.

"Well, it didn't last long at all. In those two days that I thought about it all, I hated you enough to last a lifetime. You know why I stopped?"

"No," he said and his voice cracked with emotion. 

"Because, I realized that hating you was only a diversion from the person I hated the most; me."

"Lu…Buffy," Spike soothed and reached a tentative hand out to Buffy and placed it lovingly on her knee. He felt the tension in her mount for several seconds before she saw the sincerity in his eyes and relaxed. "You had--have--every right to hate me. What I did," he paused, willing the new onslaught of tears away, "what I did to you was inexcusable. There is nothing that you did that made you deserve to face the monster you saw that night…"

"Don't you think I know that?" Her agitation rose as the events from that night played for the millionth time over in her head. She was too lost in the moment; however, to realize that said images weren't half as gut-wrenching as they had been not twenty minutes ago. 

Closing her eyes deliberately, Buffy took several deep breaths to calm herself. _It's never halfway with Spike, is it? _She thought bittersweetly. "What you did was wrong, Spike. No, it was beyond wrong. You know, being the slayer made me think I would never have to face something like that. I thought I was scared when I had to face the Master or Angelus or Glory…but nothing was as terrifying as the helplessness I felt when you were on top of me, ripping off my clothes. God, Spike, I resented you so much and I vowed that I would never forgive you…but then that picture of you in the alley sobered me up real quick."

The silence, though unnerving was slightly less uncomfortable than the last several silent outtakes. Spike's forearms rested on his knees and he studied the room, his shoes and the floor--anything but the petite figure before him that had replaced Dru as the love of his life. 

Buffy, however, was not as determined to keeping her eyes elsewhere. Every so often, they would sweep across his hunched form, desperately trying to figure out what was so different about him. It wasn't his hair or stubble across his chin or the fact that he was dressed so differently. No, it wasn't as mundane as being relegated to his physical makeup, though his eyes did hold an additional quality about them. She stared intently at his blue orbs, though she noticed he was quite actively avoiding eye contact, again. No, this wasn't the Spike she had come to know and love…

_Love? _She thought to herself frantically. _Where did that come from? _

"Spike," she said before the snarky voice inside her could reply with an answer she wasn't quite ready to hear. 

"Yeah?" He said and looked at her indirectly. 

"I never…I never apologized for what I did that night--you know, in the alley. If you didn't do what you did, I may not even be here right now," she laughed humorlessly. "That would have really thrown the Council for a loop, having two slayers in jail." She measured the air between them before taking both his hands in hers. 

"And," she added, "I never got to thank you for all the other things you did for me, either. Look, we both know how much you hurt me that night but…"

"But what?" he ventured.

"But I also know that however bad it was that night, I had been hurting you, _intentionally, _for months."

"Buffy…"

"Shut up, Spike," she said gently with a small smile poking at the corner of her lips. "All the things I said to you when you were trying so hard to change--God, I was such a bitch to you. I can admit that now. I can also admit that, no matter what happened that night, I forgive you. I really do." She saw the wariness in his eyes and knew what he was thinking. 

"Look, I'm not saying I'm totally over it or anything. I mean, seeing you brought up a lot of things I thought I had dealt with but hadn't. I guess…" she fumbled for the right word. "I guess I just needed closure and part of the old, hurtful Buffy got loose for a second." She finally saw the hint of a genuine smile in his eyes though so much hurt and pain was still there. It was there for both of them, and she knew they both needed time to fully and properly heal. But it wasn't something that time apart would accomplish. No, it was something they needed to do together. 

"Spike; I'm sorry," she said and couldn't keep the tears in abeyance any longer, "I am so sorry about everything. How things got between us…I know now that most of the blame falls on me. You loved me as much, if not more, than I have ever been loved and I used that, used you, for my own selfishness. I know I don't deserve it, but I hope that you can forgive me. I me…" but Spike silenced her with a gentle caress of his finger across her lips. 

"No, luv," he said unabashedly, "there's no need." Her eyebrows knitted together and he couldn't help but smile at how much he loved that look. "I forgave you the moment you did those things. You were right, about me being a monster. What I…" but now it was her turn to shush him. 

"No more, Spike. No more talk about that night. I have forgiven you for it already, so there is no reason to bring it back up again. I know we both aren't through with getting over the things we have done to one another and that is going to take time. I don't know how long, but we both need time to heal…"

Spike couldn't help but lower his head in dejection. _So this is the send-off, eh? This is where she tells me that she doesn't want to see me again. Ha. 'S alright, pet, go ahead and say it. 'S not like I thought anything was going to go differently, now did I? _Spike closed his eyes and the tears that were kept prisoner in his eyes, broke free. Despite what he had done to her, a part of him hoped against hope that she would take him back into her arms. His inner self mocked his naivete and it wasn't until he felt her warm hands on his chin that he snapped out of the malaise he was free falling into.

"We need time, William. But," she took a huge breath of air before she could finish and Spike physically braced himself for the coup de grace that never came. Instead her words stopped his beating heart mid-rhythm and he stared at her in disbelief. 

"What…what did you say?"

"I said that I don't think time apart is the answer. I think we need to deal with this together. Spike, I want you to come home, back to Sunnydale. Come back with me." 

Spike could only stare at the beautiful woman before him as his mind frantically processed her words. She had asked him to come home with her. To come home to Sunnydale. He felt the physical relief as an invisible weight had been eased from his weary shoulders and he laughed tiredly. It wasn't long before his laughs crossed over into hoarse sobs until he was crying hard, his whole body heaving as the pain was released. 

He never felt Buffy's arms encircle his trembling form or the comforting words she whispered in his ears. What he did feel was the warmth that surrounded his heart. So much had happened between them and he had never thought he'd get a chance to make amends for any of it. But through the grace of God, he would be able to seek redemption; he would be able to make things right. It might take time but something like this was worth the wait. And though he no longer had all the time in the world, he did have the forgiveness of the one person he loved more than his existence. Maybe that was all he would get. He all but eliminated the possibility that they would be lovers, but maybe being friends was an option, he really wasn't sure. 

As the clouds rolled from his mind and he felt the tiny arms of Buffy surrounding him, he smiled amid the sobbing and knew that, if anything, the memory of her holding him, comforting him, would be enough to propel him through the short years. 

It would have to be. 

***Did I leave You hanging? Hehe. I know there are A LOT of questions floating around about this part but don't worry, I ll answer things eventually. I won't be updating this as frequently as 'Family Ties' but I ll try to have part III up by July 27th at the latest. Until then, you can check out my "Family Ties" updates and my one shot "Til the End of the World." 

***Reviews always welcome as well as suggestions. 


	3. Part III

Do What You Have To Do

Part III

Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way, arms encircling one another as the tears--tears of pain, of regret, of frustration, and of second chances--rained from their eyes. Tears they had never been able to shed for two years, tears only they could understand, mingled as their cheeks brushed against each other's. 

Spike refused to let go, knowing that moments of comfort with Buffy, no matter how close their newfound relationship could potentially bring them, would be virtually nil. So he held her as if his life depended on it, inhaling her sweet scent with the vigor of a man gasping for air. Her body was warm and inviting but the pain of the situation kept any lustful thoughts in abeyance. Instead, he channeled the strength and determination that radiated from her to him. Her presence alone prevented him from drowning in the now undulating tide of guilt and regret. 

Buffy was also lost in the embrace. The old Buffy--the one that had slowly died over the past two years--raged at holding this attempted rapist so close to her breast. That old sliver of her that still resurfaced from time to time whispered to her to shove a shard of glass through his neck. With her strength, it would be nothing to decapitate him, turning him into nothing but a much-deserved pile of dust. 

That voice that had controlled her for so long, dictating her words, some often cruel, did not win this round. Earlier, it had thought victory was at hand as she slung hurtful barbs at Spike, cutting into his already fractured self. She had felt a cold satisfaction at seeing him break under her tirade though it was a fleeting high. It wasn't until the new Buffy, the one that had been eight years in the making, roared to life that she saw how callous her words, though necessary for her, were. 

She now held fast to the strong man before her, clinging to him with all her unnatural strength, with the same desperate grip that he held her with. 

"Buffy," he whispered his voice thick and raspy with emotion. "God, luv, I've missed you so much." If possible, his arms tightened their hold on her as if he were afraid that she would disappear.Buffy was touched by his words, and she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a sob before it escaped her lips. She didn't know what to say. Should she tell him how much she had missed him? Or should she keep quiet? After all, she did ask him to come back--didn't that tell him how much she missed him? 

Opting for the latter, Buffy ran her hands up and down Spike's taut back, crushing her eyes shut, hoping to staunch the tears that continued to flow. It did nothing and she relegated herself to the fact that they would continue to fall for some time. Instead, she tried to at least steady the pounding in her chest to some degree, before she passed out. 

Buffy managed to get her breathing under control and felt her heart slowly--excruciatingly slowly--return to normal. Still, there was that same knocking on her chest. It took her a minute to deduce that said thump was occurring _outside _of her body, which meant only one thing--one thing that was completely impossible. 

The curiosity was enough to temporarily slow her tears and she realized that, though his sobs had died down, Spike was still crying. His warm tears still dripped onto her skin…

And that's when it hit her. The warmth of his touch, of his blood, of his breath against her. With everything else that had happened, she had never really gotten a chance to elaborate on what she was feeling. Now, though…now, she could. 

"Spike," she murmured, trying to disentangle herself from his embrace. As she lightly pushed against his chest, Spike clung to her with an even greater desperation. 

"No," he croaked and she could feel him trying to hold back the sobs as they caught in his chest. "I can't let go, I can't." The sheer hopelessness of his tone was so heartbreaking to her. She didn't know what had happened to him these last two years, but she swore to herself that she would find out. And when she did, she could piece back together the fractures that were Spike. 

"Shhh, baby," she said as she unconsciously stroked his light brown hair. "I'm not gonna go anywhere. Except maybe to the wonderful world of the unconscious if you don't ease up a bit." Her humorous remark was greeted by a hoarse bark and she wasn't sure whether it was a sob or a laugh. Her question was answered when Spike slowly released his hold on her enough for her to pull away. 

Spike groaned inwardly at the loss of her touch but masked his disappointment with a tired smirk. 

"Sorry, luv," he said sheepishly. He unabashedly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and leaned gingerly against the mirror frame, the shards of glass crackling under his weight. 

"Uhh, I don't know about you," Buffy said, still shocked, "but sitting in a pile of glass; not of the good."

"Don't bother me too much. Guess it's a man thing." He cast her a sultry look, desperately trying to reclaim some of his manhood. "Course, there's always my lap, pet."

Buffy stared at Spike, oblivious to his comment. She studied him closely, every angle, every tone, every movement. She briefly caught his mounting unease before returning to her task. She was looking for something--anything--that could shed light on the situation. That was when she saw it. 

His skin was darker, though that wasn't saying much. It held the rich tint of someone who spent at least a modicum of time out in the sun. Still, it let her know that something besides his heartbeat was going on. 

Spike couldn't help but feel uneasy as Buffy's eyes raked across his body. Two years ago, such a visual dissection would have filled him with hope; hope that she actually had feelings for him. But that was not the case. He could tell that it was not a look of satisfaction or lust visible in her eyes, rather one of curiosity. 

He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head and it wasn't a second later that her eyes bulged, her jaw clinking to the ground. 

"Jesus, Spike," she said in disbelief, her eyes again watery with tears, "you're human."

***

One of the many things that I've learned in my…unique relationship with Buffy is not to laugh at her when she is either 1) already pissed or 2) trying to make a serious point. Though I loved to see her with her knickers in a twist (and always will), rarely did I enjoy the stakes she shot at me with her eyes. 

Knowing that, you would have thought I would have taken her hand in mine, nodded solemnly and said "Yes dear, the wizard made me a real boy" or something to that effect. Instead, I did something I shouldn't have done. 

I laughed. 

The look on her face as she watches me double over is priceless. It's fills with an incredulity that precedes the brassed off Buffy by nary a millisecond.

"What the hell's so funny?" She stands up quickly, her balled fists resting on her hips. The sight of her like this only makes me laugh harder. 

I can almost hear her eyes roll in annoyance but I am too far gone to get back to reality just yet. 

"Spike," she screeches and stamps her foot hard to the ground. Of course, being the wearer of four-inch pumps causes her to stumble slightly and a litany of curses follow when she sees that her juvenile behavior has cost her one designer heel. 

"Shit," she mutters and braces herself against the wall, removing the shoe. I shakily get to my feet, the laughter petering off a tad though my stomach still aches from the unexpected guffaw. 

Leaning against the wall, head slumped, I feel her weighted gaze on me, waiting for some kind of response. I know this it not the same Buffy I left. How? That's easy because if it was, I'd be halfway through the wall, propelled through the air by slayer fists. 

"Sorry, Slayer," I say, wiping the tears—a mix of pain and mirth—from my eyes. Her frown softens and she eyes me with concern and…? I'm not sure what the other emotion is, but it's something almost foreign. 

Shaking off my curiosity, I lead her over to the chairs seated against the wall. I wait for her to sit and quickly follow into my own seat, exhaling dramatically as I fall into the leather. 

Both of us sit there for several minutes, silently wringing our hands together, unable to sit still. I watch her fidget with the ring on her finger, as if she wants to take it off. I can't tell you how much it hurts to know that someone has taken her heart, but I can't really think about that now, because if I do…

"Your hand," she says, breaking the silence. Before I can respond, she has my sliced hand in hers, turning it over, examining the shards of glass lodged into my skin. 

"Hold on, okay?" I watch her as she walks over to the overturned desk and I vaguely register that she picks up what must be her purse. But my attention is on something much more alluring. 

She moves like a jungle cat—not so much walking as it is gliding gracefully, though her muscles are always at taut, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. She is always prepared, the confidence beating off her in waves, welcoming all challengers. That attitude, that danger hidden behind her golden tresses and smoldering eyes is what enthralled me all those years ago. 

I can barely register her heartbeat as she takes her place next to me and I can't help but feel saddened by it. There was a time where I could detect every nuance in her heart's cadence as it pumped the rich, coppery fluid of life through her veins. With no more than a quick whiff, I could gauge her emotional state—whether she was aroused, depressed or angry. I always loved how I was in tune to every part of her, good and bad. 

But now, as I watch her removing the shards from my hand with tweezers, I can't help but mourn my loss. With the help of my senses, she was more open to me than any man could ever hope to have her and I often knew what she was thinking even before she herself did. Course, that wasn't something she was too keen about. 

"All better now." 

I nod clumsily, though my eyes are still locked on hers. So many things now that are beyond my grasp, so many things I will have to relearn about this amazing woman before me. I ask myself whether or not I will like what I have to learn. I will always love her, this I know but after our upcoming re-acquaintance, will I still love her with the same intensity, with the same blind passion that I did two years ago. 

As my gaze fixes onto her lips and I find my body moving towards her of its own volition, I know the answer. 

"Spike," she says and gently places her hand to my chest. It is enough to break the spell, though for an instant, I could have sworn she was moving towards me as well. 

"Sorry, luv," I say absently and turn away before she can see the disappointment in my eyes. Ever the masochist, I am. 

"So, mind telling me how you pulled a Timmy?" Her voice is remarkably calm though I do detect a slight tremble in her voice, like she's holding it together by a thread. Least I can do is help her through it. 

"Didn't know you watched Passions, luv." I throw her my best smirk (which is quite good, considering the situation) and she grants me a genuine smile—albeit weak—but a smile nonetheless. 

"Yeah, well, as loath as I am to admit it, the show kind of grows on you; like mold," she gives me a pointed look letting me know that Passions isn't the only thing she's talking about. 

We fall into the same uncomfortable silence of a few minutes ago, and I take to studying my feet, and from my peripheral I can tell she's doing the same. 

Finally, I work up the nerve to speak. "As much as I like this office and all, I really don't fancy it as a place for the big tell-all," when she looks up, I steal another glance at her finger, unable to hide the bitterness that's crawling inside of me at the thought of her being taken. I curse myself when she looks down, almost ashamed. Bugger. 

I sigh heavily before standing up, offering my hand to her. She takes it nervously and I help her to her feet. Again, we stand, fidgeting on the balls of our feet as if expecting a blow. This time, however, it is her turn to break the silence. 

"So…your car or mine?"

"I wager if we're getting back to Sunny D tonight…" she nods before I continue, "then I guess it'd be right to take yours, considering you probably have things to do with it. I can send for mine later."

She looks up at me, those bright, beautiful eyes of hers penetrating my two-year old soul and I can't help but smile at her. 

"Good. We were gonna take my car anyway," she says and punches me playfully in the shoulder before turning on her heels and walking out the door. "Just wanted you to feel like you had a say in things."

I shake my head in mock disgust, muttering something about slayers and their bossiness, though I can hardly hide my budding exuberance. 

As I follow her out the door, my thoughts turn to this new woman who is so much like my old love but yet different. I never would have thought I'd see her again, much less walk out of a confrontation unscathed. To have her ask me to come back home with her is more than I could ever dream of. I move to pinch myself but stop just as I'm about to. If this is a dream, I sure as bloody hell don't fancy waking up from it. 

Twenty-five minutes later, the former lovers found themselves seated comfortably in a back booth of a Waffle House. It had taken Spike fifteen minutes to retrieve two suitcases from his car as well as plan for said car to be dropped off by the following Wednesday in Sunnydale. Spike had kept a casual watch out for Rachel to no avail and he had dejectedly left the club. 

Deciding on the Waffle House had been a unanimous decision. Neither could deny the call of head-sized waffles waiting to be drenched in all the syrup you could stomach. The fact that it was right off the highway and that it offered a somewhat decent amount privacy without being overbearingly quiet was simply a logistical convenience. 

Both had internally decided to forego any discussions of importance until they were finished eating. So when their mouths weren't full, they relegated themselves to idle small talk ranging from sports to the weather. 

Even though she had a never ending list of questions she wanted to ask, Buffy stalled as much as humanly possible because, despite her eagerness to find out what had happened in the last two years, she was terrified at those answers. Even more so, she was petrified about telling Spike about the new (and not so new) developments in her life. So she sat there, toying with what remained of her overly saturated waffles, alternating between sips of coffee and furtive glances at the man on the opposite side of the table. 

Spike wasn't stupid. He knew exactly was Buffy was doing. She was stalling, waiting for him to break this ice. See, by his guess, she probably had more than her fair share of things she was none too eager to spill, starting with the diamond on her finger. 

Of course, one of the reasons he knew what she was doing was because he just so happened to be doing the exact same thing. 

Staring into his now lukewarm cup of coffee, Spike wrestled with where to begin. She needed to know it all, but to know it all he had to start from the beginning. And since the beginning of his journey happened to coincide with the most shameful moment in his entire existence, it was obvious why he was more than apprehensive to begin the conversation. 

_Course, who said it had to start with me, _he thought. If nothing, Spike was an accomplished bullshitter, with an uncanny ability to put someone on the defensive, especially Buffy. _Well, the old Buffy at least. This one…don't quite know what to do with her. _He knew he could ask her questions, like how Dawn was doing, or Red. Of course, he also had wanted to blurt out 'so who's the tosser that shoved that rock on your finger?' or something to that effect. But, as things went, he didn't see that as a viable option. Instead, he asked what he hoped to be more expecting. 

"So how'd you find me?" Good. Not too personal, not too evasive either. 

The question startled Buffy out of her own thoughts. She was debating whether she should start asking the questions or wait for him to explain himself. And an explanation was what she needed, because as much as she'd forgiven him, she was still hurt by the fact that he left without a word. It wasn't so much that she needed to know _why _he left (she had that pretty much pegged) but why he hadn't given her a heads up. She had decided to wait him out due to her fear that the pain she still felt would stick out like a sore thumb. 

Glad that he had decided to speak, Buffy gathered her thoughts. _How should I answer that? Well, Spike I hired a mutual friend of ours to track you down…_

"Angel," she said softly as she watched Spike's jaw clinch noticeably. In truth, she hadn't actually hired Angel so much as begged him of the favor. He was totally thrown by why she actually wanted to find his Childe and after an hour of debating, Angel had finally conceded--begrudgingly, of course. 

"What'd you tell him?" Spike asked, forcing his tone to remain even. It was a little over a month ago that Spike's 'favorite' Sire came to pay him a visit. Angel never said anything about Buffy--well, that wasn't true. What he _didn't _say was how Buffy had contacted him to find Spike. When Angel had walked into the back of the club that night, murder in his eyes, there was no doubt in Spike's mind that Angel knew. And considering the thrashing the elder vampire gave him, it wasn't just their affair that he knew about. 

Spike hadn't really fought back, looking at his pummeling as just a part of his penance for his actions. Course, after it became clear that Angel was on the verge of doing to Spike what the former vampire had almost done to Buffy, the Brit had fought with tooth and nail. As it were, after beating each other senseless, the two had come to an uneasy truce. 

Buffy averted her eyes at the question. She had told Angel virtually everything, with exception to the incident in the bathroom. He had been more than furious knowing that she and his Childe had slept together. Finding out that said Childe had almost raped her--no; she didn't want to think about what Angel would have done. 

"I told him…about us."

"Us?" She nodded. "'About us' what?" he couldn't keep disdain from creeping into his tone at that. 

Buffy knew what he was thinking and quickly moved to clear things up. 

"I told him about us when I came back. About how you were there for me--listened to me when no one else wanted to understand. I told him that when we were--together--that I felt alive for the first time since they brought me back. Needless to say, he was a tad bit upset about that," Buffy laughed tiredly. 'A bit upset' was the ultimate of understatements. 

"He wanted to kill you for what he said was taking advantage of me."

"Ever treatin' you like the little girl," Spike muttered, not ashamed of the contempt in his tone. 

"Got that right," she said and when they caught each other's eye, they both smiled. 

"So, anyway, like I said, he wanted to kill you. I practically had to beat him down just so he'd stop and listen to what I had to say."

"And that was?" Spike was all ears, almost not believing that this was the same girl--no, woman--that was the reigning 'Queen of Denial'. He couldn't help but wonder how she had matured so much in the two years since he had last seen her. 

"I told him that I was the one taking advantage of you. I was the one who used the love you had for me for my own selfish needs."

"Which, of course, he didn't believe," he spat derisively. "Soulless creature like me can't love. Love's only for those with a soul. Am I right, pet?" 

Buffy just stared at Spike, who didn't bother to keep his disgust at bay. As she studied him, his eyes flickering to that cold blue he got when he was angry, she couldn't help but giggle. 

Seeing Buffy laugh had made Spike angrier than he had been in years…at least for an instant. But as he watched her shoulders shake slightly, he couldn't help but smile back. 

"What?" He asked, grinning. 

"Seems like you have the 'poofter' pegged perfectly." That was enough to get them both laughing loud enough to draw the ire of several customers. Seeing the faces of the patrons only made them laugh harder and when the waitress came back to pick up their dishes, she gave them a mock evil eye before sauntering back to the kitchen, chuckling herself. 

After a few minutes, the laughter died down and both slayer and ex-vampire had eyes wet with tears. 

Spike was the first to recover, wiping his eyes with a napkin, his jaw stiff from smiling so much, though he'd never complain. This was a woman who he had tried to kill on more than half a dozen times and she refused to kill him. Not only that, but she also had entrusted the two most important people in the world to her to his care; never doubting that he would protect Dawn and her mother with his life. Then, in some twisted chance of fate, he had become her confidant, listening to the problems she had adjusting to the life she didn't want anymore. That pseudo-friendship had slowly transformed into an affair that, to this day, he couldn't come to terms with. But out of all that, what surprised him the most was that after all that he had done, culminating with his attack on her in the bathroom, they were in a restaurant, eating and laughing together as if they had been doing it for years. 

Buffy watched Spike intently as he sobered up, mentally cataloguing his every twitch. She could tell that the wheels inside his head were turning…thinking about things, much the same way that she was. She had wanted to ask whether Angel confronted him about things, knowing that he probably did. Though she had told Angel not to hurt Spike, knowing the two as intimately as she did, Buffy knew that words, and most definitely fists, were exchanged. 

They both were silent for a few moments and Buffy could tell that Spike wanted to say something by the way he worried his lip between his teeth. Obviously, it was something he was having a hard time bringing to words.

"Did you tell him?" he interrupted her thoughts and Buffy took a second to gather her wits. 

"Tell him what?"

Spike was trying hard to give her the hint without actually saying it. Even the slightest thought of…that night…was enough to make the bile rise in his chest. She may have forgiven him, but he damn sure hadn't forgiven himself and doubted that he ever would. 

Buffy only stared at Spike, waiting for him to continue, but he refused to meet her gaze. She was confused. Thirty seconds ago they had been laughing like children and now--now, Spike's head hung low, his shoulders slumped in shame…

"Oh," she said as realization hit her, "oh." Spike forced himself to look Buffy in the eye, something that was getting harder the more he thought about what he had almost done. 

"No. If…if I would have told him that, it wouldn't have mattered what I said... he would've killed you. And I really wasn't interested in having two urns on my mantle reminding me of my two ex-boy..." she stopped in mid-sentence but it was too late. Thoroughly mortified, she buried her face in her hands and laid her head down on the table. 

Spike could only stare at her in awe, his previous melancholy temporarily forgotten at Buffy's unintentional confession. It wasn't just the fact that she had almost referred to him as her ex-boyfriend, but her casual slip of having _two _urns was what had lifted his hearts. 

"You…would have killed Angel? --If he killed me?" He couldn't hide the adoration from his voice and his genuine sincerity was the only reason Buffy uncovered her face. 

She wanted to deny it, not wanting him to think he had meant more to her than he really did. _But didn't it? --Doesn't he? _She thought to herself and didn't answer, because she knew it was true. 

Smiling bashfully, she drew circles with her finger on the table, giving Spike a knowing look. 

"So--what happened?" she asked, hoping that he got the hint. 

Thankfully, he did and replied with bright smile. He would drop the subject for now, content on letting her words marinate for awhile. 

"Where to begin?" he said idly, falling back into serious mode.

"Well," Buffy perked, "most narratives start at the beginning--you know, cuts down on the need for back story and all."

He couldn't help but smile, though wearily. But as he began, the smile again faded from his lips and his face became an emotionless fixture. 

"I couldn't be around you. After what I did to you, I knew things couldn't stay like they were. So I left. I didn't know what I was anymore. I tried…I _wanted _to be a man for you but I wasn't a man. And the chip prevented me from being the monster I had been for so long," he nervously ran a hand through his highlighted locks. "I was nothing."

Buffy could hear the sadness in his voice and wanted to comfort him but she held back. Hearing this was going to be hard for both of them but it was necessary. She decided that it was better for Spike to get through it on his own as best he could. If he stumbled--_really _stumbled, then she would lend a shoulder for him. 

"Funny thing was, I tried to blame you for everything that happened. You were eating me up inside, consuming me. My every thought was of you and I couldn't stop it--every time I said I loved you, I tried to hate you for making me feel that way," he laughed bitterly. "But it never worked. Even that little rhubarb behind the police station wasn't enough for me to resent you. All those months with you, being there for you in any way you needed only did one thing--it made me hate myself. Hate what I was becoming. Hate what I couldn't be." 

"But why?" Buffy asked, noting the faraway look in his eyes as they glazed over with unshed tears of frustration. 

"Come now, luv. You knew me in the beginning. Weren't many things I was proud of in my existence. Being a vampire was one of them. Bloody fantastic feeling that was. Hell, even with that sodding chip shoved into my gray matter, I still knew _who _I was. My nature. 

"But when I fell in love with you, everything changed. I was torn inside, Buffy. Torn between what was in my nature versus what I wanted to be for you. I tried to deny my feelings, to change them like I said. But the more I fought them, the more they grew until I was enveloped by everything that was you. I didn't know where you ended and I bloody began," he spat. 

"Any way, after that night, after the way I felt--my mind replaying everything over and over again, I knew I had to change it. I couldn't live like that anymore, not knowing what I was. And like I said, I tried to blame it on you--on the chip. So I decided to make that change."

"So you wanted to get the chip out?" Buffy asked, her voice eerily calm. 

Spike snickered at it, having an idea of what she was thinking. "Yeah. Thought that if I had it out, things would become clear. Either I'd be back to my old self and come hunting for my third slayer…" he paused, measuring her before continuing. "Or, I could find that what I felt was real and that I had truly changed. At the time, I was really rooting for possibility number one," he saw her face fall and quickly amended his words. "Course, not for reasons you think."

"What reasons would those be, Spike?" She said in that same emotionless tone though he detected a small crack in her resolve. 

"Even in my rage I knew I could never kill you, pet. No matter what you did, no matter how hurt I was, I'd never hurt you." He frowned, the scene in the bathroom rearing its ugly head again. "I could never kill you, Buffy. And if I had come back vamped up, it'd be my own death wish I'd have been here to fulfill." 

"What do you mean?" She leaned forward, intrigued by his phrasing. She almost gasped in surprise when she felt his warm hands envelop hers, his glistening blue eyes boring into her. 

"If I was going to be dust, Slayer, there's no one I'd rather have deliver me to oblivion than you." She smiled, despite the morbid undertones. She had been around vampires long enough to know that what he had said, though not of the sweet, shiny and happy, was a great compliment. 

"There would have been a problem with that, Spike."

"And that would be?" Her eyes studied the salt shaker, the crusted up napkins on the table, anything but the bottomless pits that were his eyes. Garnering a snippet of courage, Buffy glanced at him sideways before answering, 

"I could never kill you…"

Spike gaped at the slayer as if she had sprouted two heads before his lips turned up into a sheepish grin. He saw it in her eyes that she could kill him no more than he could her. It was invigorating and at the same time, scary. He thought he had known the depths of her emotions and character before he left but he now knew how wrong he was. 

There were many layers to Buffy Anne Summers and he could only hope that he would be privy to re-discover even a fraction of those layers. 

***

After Buffy's admission, the rest of the conversation went smoothly. Spike had been injected with a renewed vigor and he told her everything. The parts he had been most proud of were, of course, the trials. He told them with a zest that Buffy hadn't seen since their conversation in the Bronze about the two slayers he had killed. 

He told her about how that ponce Lurky had stiffed him (though Spike could tell she wasn't falling for his mock-dejection) and what it had been like those first couple of weeks as a new man. He had stopped there, saving the two years between for another time. 

For all her questions, Buffy remained quiet for the majority of Spike's tale, inserting the expected 'ewws' and 'gross, Spike' when necessary. She had been enthralled with it all and had to bite down on her lip when he begrudgingly told her what he had wished for. His words of giving her what she deserved had touched Buffy's soul and the tears had once again tried to rear their mushy heads. Of course, she played it off like something had been in her eye. An excuse that he, surprisingly, let slide. 

"What time is it?" She asked him, stifling a yawn. 

Spike snapped his wrist over and glared at the platinum band that hung there. "Quarter to four."

"Man," she said, before stretching her hands to the ceiling. Spike couldn't but fall into the familiar worship of the graceful movements of her body. He admired how the dress clung to her as her arms reached for the heavens, her nipples taut under the thin fabric. 

"Pervert," she spat, jokingly, rustling the ex-vampire from his daze. 

"Well, yeah," he replied as he stood, stretching his own limbs. He sauntered over to Buffy while she wriggled out of the booth and whispered into her ear seductively, "but you like it." He was properly re-introduced to a small, yet powerful fist into the meat of his shoulder. 

"You're a pig, Spike," Buffy said smiling as she pushed past Spike to the exit. 

"Oink, Oink, baby," he retorted and followed her out. 

As they made it to her black Civic, both were lost in identical thoughts. It had been two years since they had last been face to face and had departed on the worst of terms. That being true neither could explain how so much of the anger and pain that had festered within both of them had been extinguished in a few short hours. Neither was under the impression that everything had been put right. On the contrary, now that the big stuff was out of the way, the little things needed to be taken care of. And they both knew that the little things often proved to be the biggest hurdles to get over. Of course, it didn't help that one of the said 'little things' just so happened to be a tight knit group called the Scoobies. 

Their thoughts running parallel, the slayer and her former lover moaned simultaneously. The Scoobies was a whole other subject. Neither was fully prepared for the confrontation that was bound to take place just a few short hours from now but it was unavoidable. 

_At least we have each other to lean on, _they both thought as Buffy pulled out onto the highway.

***Just so you know, I am a B/S fan, so don't jump to conclusions on stuff. Of course, there will be a lot more angst as well as some teary re-acquaintances. 

***I will try to have part four up by Sunday but no promises. I can only promise that it will be up by Tuesday at the latest. 

***Reviews are welcome and needed. 


	4. Part IV

Part IV

They had been sitting there for ten minutes, staring straight ahead through the tinted glass, neither knowing what to say or do. Both slayer and ex-vampire fidgeted with their hands that rested in their respective laps, minds racing. 

"Well," Buffy said, breaking the silence, "looks like we're here." Spike smiled tightly at her mock cheer, knowing that she was dreading what was to come just as much as he was. 

"Looks like," he muttered, his voice tainted with apprehension. He craned his neck to the right, drinking in the sight of the place he last visited almost two years ago. The simple house held some of the most powerful memories he had had in his twelve plus decades of unlife. Camaraderie: when he had formed the uneasy alliance with the woman next to him, intent on sending her ex-beau, his ex-Yoda, to hell. Acceptance: how Joyce always treated him as a man and not a creature of the night. Emptiness: when he had followed Buffy after chaining her up, only to find that he had been de-invited. Hope: before the battle with Glory, he had seen what he thought was a glimmer of acceptance in her eyes, as she saw him as more than he was…more than he ever could be. Solidity and Comfort: his relationship over that summer with Dawn, how she had been there as much for him as he had been for her. There were even times where he had shared her bed, unable to quiet the inner demons of his failures, and her gentle cooing as she held him, the only solace he could find at that time. Awe and Joy: when he had seen her descend the steps, alive for the first time in 147 days, he had felt—had known—that, for one moment, his heart sputtered to life. 

Those memories, however, no matter their significance, were clouded over, blackened by his one true moment of shame, the moment that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The way she clutched her robe as she glared at him with disgust, the helpless feeling of betrayal radiating from her teary eyes. How her words—"Ask me again why I could never love you"—filled with hurt and…disappointment? —crashed into him like a mace. 

"You okay?" he felt her hand on his shoulders and jumped. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spike turned to her and forced a smile. 

"Just peachy, luv. Just peachy," he repeated though the last two words were hollow. 

"Well, we can stay here and admire the sunrise," she said, unhooking her seatbelt, "or we can get out and get you settled." 

"You know you don't have to do this, pet," Spike said, placing a tentative hand on her arm before she stepped out the car. 

The genuine smile Buffy gave Spike warmed his heart. 

"I know," she stated simply before swinging her legs out the car door. 

Intimating her actions, Spike removed himself from the confines of the Civic and joined her at the trunk. 

The stood there, side by side, shoulders grazing as they swayed, staring into the trunk at his two bags. It really wasn't that he needed to bring them in, considering that sometime tomorrow, he'd be checking into a decent hotel until he could get adjusted. Buffy had offered (more like insisted) that he sleep there for a few hours instead of renting a room in one of the many seedy motels that stayed open twenty-four/seven. The offer was special in of itself, but the sincerity behind it was almost his undoing. Though they had been on the highway at the time, he had wanted to plunder her lips with his, to hell with the consequences. By some miracle, however, he had refrained from that course of action and managed to only squeeze her hand that had rested on the gearshift. 

"So," he said, rocking slightly on his heels, "think we should head in?"

"Why?" She asked him dazed before nudging him in the ribs playfully. "We could always be the poster people of what drugs would make you do." She finished by giggling madly. 

Spike only looked at her, his lips pursed in a questioning smile. Though he had no idea what she was talking about, seeing her laugh with such life invigorated him to no end. He had rarely seen the giggly schoolgirl side of her, capturing minute glances every so often during their time together. Even when she would slip and snicker around him, she was quick to suppress it, lest she show that he was more than a 'convenience'--at least that was what he had thought. And then there was the fact that he hadn't seen her in two years. 

"Tired, luv?" he smirked and when Buffy looked at him, she couldn't help but double over in giggles. In mock-annoyance, Spike rolled his eyes and plucked a bag from the trunk before walking up to the porch, muttering something about sleep-deprived slayers. 

Wiping her eyes, Buffy closed the trunk before following Spike up the steps, almost running into him when he stopped abruptly at the top of the steps. 

"Uh, rude much," Buffy joked before maneuvering past him and inserting the key in the door. Just as she was about to push it open, she heard the faintest of whispers tickle at her eardrum. 

She turned around tentatively and caught sight of one of the most endearing, heartbreakingly sad faces she had ever seen. 

There stood Spike, one suitcase in his left hand while the other arm hung loosely at his side. His wide blue eyes were glazed over and his face was contorted in a fearful scowl, as if he was expecting to be kicked at any moment. 

"Spike?" Buffy asked, concern evident in her tone. Her hand dropped from the door and she walked up to the ex-vampire with trepidation. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, not missing his slight flinch at the contact. She bit her lower lip to keep the tears at bay and waited several moments before speaking, making sure her tone was calm yet sincere. "What is it?"

At her question, Spike was able to tear his eyes away from the door and settle on the petite woman in front of him. He could see the concern etched on her face and it warmed him, relieving some of the deadness that washed over him when his feet touched the porch. Now, more than ever, the reality of what he had done crushed his soul, pulling it down into the depths of grief and shame and he all but knew that it would drown him if not for his lifeline that was the slayer--the one he had hurt above all others. 

But that wasn't entirely accurate, he knew. There was someone else, someone he loved just as much as Buffy, albeit in a different way, that he knew he had hurt just as much by leaving. The one person who had held him together when he had wanted nothing more than to greet the sun. The one person who had accepted him, from day one, as a person and not some evil fiend. The one person that considered him a best friend and had, numerous times, shown him affection when no one else dared. The person that was even more beautiful and radiant than her namesake. Just behind those doors, she was somewhere in there, sleeping. And as hard as it had been to face the slayer, Spike didn't know if he could survive the hurt and disappointment that would wash over the youngest Summers' face. 

After what seemed like an eternity to the former lovers, one word crept from Spike's constricted throat. 

"What did you say?" Buffy asked and moved a few inches closer in order to hear his whispers. 

"Dawn," he murmured a single tear slowly crawled down his face, his eyes refocusing on the door in front of them. 

***

I watch as a tear trickles down Spike's face and, for a brief moment, there is no confusion as to how I feel about the man before me. There is no Angel of the past or Garrett of the present. All there is here and now, for my future, is Spike--my William. In that moment I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him, loving him. Gone are my worries about my friends or needing time to heal for there is nothing to heal. In that brief moment, the time that spans half a heartbeat, one eye blink, my whole world comes together as it never had before and I feel safe. I feel loved. But more than that, I feel content. 

But as all things come to an end so, too, does that moment. 

I step back slightly, shaken by the previous swirl of my thoughts. I don't even think about his reaction to it but, thankfully, I don't have to worry. He is still transfixed on some invisible spot on the door. Fine, look at the door, I think and immediately reprimand myself. This isn't about me at all; this is about Spike being terrified of coming face to face with the one person, aside from Mom, that treated him like the man that he was--the man he is now. 

"Spike," I say again and grab his free hand. He doesn't hesitate to take it and I feel that same strength in his grip in my fingers as was in his arms when he hugged me earlier. My eyebrows arch in confusion at the strength I feel there but that can wait. My main goal now is to somehow coax him through the door. It sounds easy but if you saw his face right now, it'd remind you of a rabbit, ready to bolt at the slightest noise. 

"C'mon, Spike. We both need to get some sleep," I say and motion toward the door. He shakes his head as if to disentangle his brain from the cobwebs and gives me a plastic grin. I give him a supportive smile before opening the door, slowly with Spike reluctantly in tow. 

Once we cross the threshold, part of Spike's tension melts away, though from the haunted look in his eyes, a good portion still remains. 

We stand there for several minutes, silently (something that has become quite the habit tonight). Though his eyes flutter around the house, I catch him stealing furtive glances toward the steps. If it weren't for the pain that I know he's in, the indecision in his eyes would be cute. As it is now, I can only feel sympathy for what he's going through as well as what is still to come. 

"So," he says, rocking back and forth on his heels, "I'm guessin' I'll be couch-bound tonight, eh?" He looks at me awaiting an answer that I can't give him right at this moment. Why, you ask? Well, it'd probably have to do with those eyes staring at me from under the sexiest eyelashes I have ever seen. 

Forcing myself out of the temporary paralysis, I smile at him before replying. "No, you can sleep in my room," I say a bit too chipper and furrow my eyebrows at his look of utter, and complete, shock. 

"Your room?" he whispers and I barely hear it. 

"Yeah," I wave my hand in front of me for emphasis, "it's no big, in case you're worried. Since Willow moved…" and then it dawn's on me--the bulging eyes, the swiveled jaw, the now rigid posture of his body. And then I retrace what I had just said. 

_You can sleep in my room--_Oh God!

"I mean…you know…'my room' as in my old room. As in the room I no longer sleep in 'my room'," I know I'm babbling but I can't help it. I can feel the heat exploding throughout my body and I can only imagine the depth of my blush. 

Oh course, even after the angst 'fest of the last several hours, the traditional smirk of Spike--see Spike's smirk--is firmly in place, though the anguish he's feeling is still near the surface. 

"Oh, right," he says and steals another look at the steps, "so, I'm wagering that you're in your Mum's old room."

"You'd be wagering correctly. And hey; more space, bigger bed. I even have my own bathroom with white tiles and…" I stop as the unpleasant memory of cool tile against my flesh ransacks its way into my mind. I look up at Spike and I see the same wretched pain on his face that is undoubtedly on mine as well. 

As per usual for this night, we fall into another lull of silence, with me studying the floor, as if waiting for a comfortable word to be said to alleviate the tension that has stealthily crept its way under my flesh. The same tension that I had thought banished after I had had it out with Spike back at the club. Guess I should have known that it wouldn't be that easy. 

"Slay…Buffy," he uses my name again, more times tonight than in our whole history together. "Dawn--I don't know if I can face her," he chokes out and his lips quiver, eyes thick with tears that he holds back and I can't help but see him now as a little boy, afraid of what his parents will say when they find out his horrible secret. 

I take his bag from him, gently setting it on the floor before taking his hands in mine. Our fingers intertwine and I can't help but feel a shock of lighting run through me; that same shock I get every time he touched me. Guess it's not reserved for only the vampire Spike. I stare up into his wide eyes, capturing a glimpse of my reflection in them and for a moment, our souls connect, and everything falls away. A rush of air courses through my veins and everything around me is gone, replaced only with the soft colors of the sky. There is no ground to stand upon, no walls to be sheltered within. There is only me, floating into a blissful nothingness, the touch of my lover all that I feel. 

But as quick as it surfaces, the…experience is gone and I am back here, staring into the eyes of a lost man. 

"Spike…"

"I'm serious," he says, his breathing becoming ragged. He shuts his eyes tightly and I whine at the lost eye contact until I see a trickle of a tear escape from underneath his eyelid. 

"I…I can't face her. Besides your Mum, she's the only person that treated me like a man all the time. She never looked at me like she hated me," he laughs humorlessly, "even when that business came up about chaining you to my crypt. Even then, I saw that she didn't despise me. But this," he lowered his head, "this…is different. I left her without so much as a goodbye." 

His head shoots up and his eyes open unnaturally wide and my heart picks up the pace. In that one instant the look--totally and completely out of control, lost--reminds me of the ill-fated conflict in the bathroom…

__

I try to crawl away, but his hand shoots out, clamping down with supernatural strength to my ankle. He grabs me by the hips and forces me over, holding my wrists. I cry over and over again, begging him, pleading him to stop but he is gone. I see it in his eyes…this is not the Spike that I patrolled with, who fought like the demon he was. This isn't the Spike who's always been there for me and Dawn. This isn't the Spike that, however unlikely, became my confidant--then lover. This isn't the Spike who made me feel alive like no one before him--making me see all the special things within me that I never noticed. This isn't the Spike that, despite my denials and protestations, I'm falling for more each day…

His words are unclear, though I hear them fine, the only thing that I know are his hands tearing at my robe, reaching for my breast before I gain enough leverage to kick him off…

"Buffy?" his voice is pained and I notice that he isn't as close as he was before. At first I think he stepped away until I feel the banister digging into the small of my back. 

"Oh God," the words come out as a whisper and I barely register that they are coming from me. I run a hand through my hair, dislodging the scrunchie holding it in a ponytail. 

"Luv," Spike prods gently as he closes the distance between him. I look up at those beautiful blue eyes of his for a moment before sitting on the bottom step. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, kneeling in front of me. I stare at him and I can't help but notice the way he's kneeling looks all to familiar--like he's about to propose. I laugh harshly, covering my mouth with both hands. 

"Buffy, are you all right?" he asks and brushes a stray lock of hair from my eyes. Am I okay? How should I answer that? _Well, aside from the fact that I experienced momentary bliss with you and then was sent directly to the hell that was our last time together, I'm peachy. Not to mention that you sitting there like that is reminding me of someone else, someone whose ring I wear. _I wonder if I should say all this aloud and quickly think not. 

"I'm fine," I smile mechanically and I know that he doesn't buy it--when did he ever buy it? "It's just that…"

"Just that what?" His body tenses as if expecting a blow. Damn, I've seen that on more than one occasion tonight. 

"She knows," I say simply though there is nothing simple about the implications of those two words. 

I had thought that when I confronted him earlier, hurling insult after insult, almost trying to cajole him into raping me again, that he had looked more defeated than I had ever seen him. 

I didn't know how wrong I was. 

I can tell he knows exactly what I'm talking about as his eyes widen in abject terror, before he falls to his butt, his arms falling to his sides insubstantial, as if they were made of Jell-O. His whole body begins to tremble and I am lost at what to do. 

"I can't stay here," he whispers, his face awash in tears once more. Before kneeling in front of him, I can't help but think that I have never seen so many tears shed between two people in one day. It's bordering on the ridiculous--though I wager two years of pent-up pain and guilt has a way of doing that. 

"Spike," I coo and try to bring him into a hug and he scrambles backwards. A stab of pain lances my gut at his reaction before I push it away and crawl towards him. If it were any other time, he'd be on me like a cat, divesting me of all my garments before taking me six ways from Sunday. But now he only looks at me, though he doesn't really see me. Then I see his eyes focus and he takes on an emotionless veneer. 

"Did you tell her?" His voice is flat, devoid of anything Spike, save for the accent. 

"Spike…no, I didn't."

His forehead creases and he asks, "How did she find out?" I break eye contact with him, not wanting him to know about Xander finding me--after. After furious deliberation, I sigh and decide to tell him. It's not like he won't find out sooner or later--with an emphasis on the sooner. 

"When you left…after the bathroom…" my throat constricts and I consciously ignore the sting in the back of my throat, "Xander found me." After those three words leave my mouth, the transformation that takes place before me is unsettling and the hairs at the back of my neck bristle in almost the same way they do when a vampire is near. And for the first time in years, I am afraid of the man that is Spike. 

His eyes mutate into a dark blue, his brow furrows into sharp creases and his body tenses, ready to kill. It still amazes me how Spike can go from sympathetic or broken to the hard and murderous visage in the blink of an eye. It reminds me of the time when he was here, trying to comfort me after the debacle of a visit from that social worker. I threw his support right back in his face. He stalked up to me with anger flashing in his eyes and for that one moment, I was afraid that he would kill me. Though I was afraid in the bathroom, it was a different kind of fear all together. Even as he tore at my clothes, I never thought he would kill me--but that one moment that, ironically, occurred in this very foyer, I thought that he was. 

I shake the thoughts of the past off and reach out to him. His skin is fiery hot and his muscles are even more strained than I previously thought. 

"Spike," I breathe his name out as if it is a life-giving substance and in a way, it is. No; will not go there. 

"Spike," I say more forcefully and he snaps his head back towards me and the murderous gaze disappears.

He looks at me as if for the first time before hanging his head again. "I don't know if I can do this, luv," he murmurs. 

Taking his face into my hands, I give him my best steely glare. He almost smiles at the determination he sees in my eyes before resigning himself to whatever I have to say. 

"You can, Spike," I say, tightening my grip on him face minutely. "You can, and you will." He stares at me for several moments as if searching for…something. He nods his head almost imperceptibly, I guess finding what he was looking for, and takes my hand. He stands, pulling me with him and gives me a bone weary smile. 

"Right you are, luv. I can do this," he tells me though I know it's more of a pep talk to himself than to me. 

"Well, then, let's go," I tell him and make my way up the steps. I feel him hesitate before he follows me up. 

As we settle him into my old room, mindful of Dawn sleeping, I can't help but worry about the coming days. There is going to be so much that he going to need to deal with that I don't think he can do it alone. Of course, that last part really doesn't matter since I will be here for him every step of the way. 

***

Thirty minutes after Buffy had shown him in, Spike laid under the covers on his back, hands folded comfortably behind his head. With everything that happened today, he was emotionally drained. He just wanted to sleep for the next week and still that wouldn't be enough. The last six hours had been a roller coaster of emotions almost too much to handle. Seeing Buffy for the first time in two years. The things she had said to him. How she had asked him to come back with her (_despite her obvious attachment to someone else_, part of him scuffed). And then there was the whole stepping through the doors of 1630 Revello Drive. Yeah, tonight had been just one of those nights where the unexpected reared its ugly (and sometimes welcome) head. 

But despite the battle he had fought tonight, the next few days were going to be a monster. Seeing the gang again was going to be on the other side of awkward, especially with Dawn and the whelp knowing what had gone down in the bathroom. The scorn he was bound to get from Xander didn't pain him nearly as much as seeing Dawn--her contempt and hatred would probably burn holes through him. He knew it was something he deserved and expected--still, it wouldn't make it any easier. 

No, he was not looking forward to this at all. 

Though unaware of it, Buffy was having the same problem sleeping, as was her ex-lover in the other room. Her sheets were tangled from her tossing and turning as her mind raced to think of what to tell the others tomorrow. She'd all but given up hope on reaching out to Xander--he would probably hate Spike regardless of the human changes in the former vampire. Buffy didn't think Willow would be too hard on Spike, considering she had almost ended the world. The depth of forgiveness the redhead now carried was only equal to the compassion that had made Tara such a warming confidant. As for Giles…well, that would be as complicated as the whole Xander issue. Though Giles was much more mature about things, seeing Spike after what he had done to Buffy--she just hoped that the Ripper part of her Watcher was buried quite deep when the reunion came around. And Anya was Anya. Buffy knew the vengeance demon wouldn't hold anything against Spike--well after giving him a thorough talking to. 

As much as she was worried about the Scoobies reactions, she was just as afraid as Spike was of what her sister's reaction would be. When Dawn had found out that Spike was gone, she was hurt and it hurt her even more when she found out what he had almost done to Buffy. It wasn't until Buffy told her the whole sordid story that Dawn managed to forgive him for that. The thing that she couldn't, or hadn't, forgiven was that he had left. Left just like her father did. Left just like Buffy and her mother did. That first month after the whole Willow ordeal was the hardest. For whatever reasons, after getting over the attempted-rape issue, the teen had thought that she had something to do with her best friend leaving and Buffy knew all too well what that felt like. It had been a time of bonding for them, and now, they were as close as two sisters could be. 

But after that first month, Dawn never mentioned Spike and anytime she saw the leather duster hanging in the closet, she would sneer in disgust before walking out. And that was just a piece of clothing. What would she do--or worse, say--when she saw the real thing? Buffy knew that Dawn was almost as good as she was in hurling hurtful barbs. But it didn't matter if she wasn't as good as Buffy, what mattered was that Spike loved Dawn just as much as he loved her. The look on his face earlier had told the slayer that much. 

Sighing, she pulled Mr. Gordo into a tight hug. No doubt about it--tomorrow was going to be a long day. 

Somewhere, faraway, he heard it. It was a gentle rapping, like a child's hand looking for entrance into his or her parents' room. It was one born of excitement, yet filled with trepidation. It clawed at him through the haze of sleep, dragging him from the subconscious realm of dreams to the oft times painful region of consciousness. 

"Spike?" the distant—though closer than before—voice wafted into his ears. The familiarity of it ushered the haze of sleep from his exhausted mind and he sat up in bed reflexively. 

"Yeah," he replied, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, listening to the door creek open and a petite figure entered the room. 

"You decent?" Buffy asked after taking two steps into the room. It had taken all her willpower to refrain from just busting open the door. Even after two years, knocking on Spike's door—rather, knocking _down _Spike's door—was just as unconscious a reflex as breathing. 

"Always," came his sardonic reply. 

Rolling her eyes, Buffy walked the rest of the way in. She stopped briefly as she made out the well-muscled form of her ex-lover as the sheets piled around his waist. Shaking her head, she mandated herself to walk forward, despite the familiar ache residing just a bit too far south for her comfort. 

"I see you've maintained your undying humility," she added dryly, muttering something about vain and sarcastic ex-vampires under her breath. 

"I'll have you know," he replied with mock-indignation, "that this fine body here was sought after by the finest of…"

"Hoes?" Buffy interrupted, not entirely hiding the trace of jealousy from her tone. Of course, even the hint of that particular emotion was not hidden from Spike.

"Jealous, luv?" he asked, arching his eyebrow in that 'way' that Buffy had to admit was quite sexy. 

"Jealous?" Buffy repeated, trying in vain to sound incredulous. But even to her, it sounded stiff and contrived.

Spike gave her a trademark smirk, pleased at the little revelation. Buffy was jealous! He was just about to make another sardonic remark when a sliver of light crawled through the curtain, reflecting off the small, yet brilliant, diamond lodged on Buffy's ring finger. 

Buffy was waiting for Spike to say something else about her jealousy—yes, she could admit to herself that she was jealous thinking about anyone having him, even if she would never be with him. She waited for the words to come from his open mouth only to catch the light that had bloomed from his eyes when she had walked into the room, fade upon itself until it was invisible. His face, full of humor and mirth, shut down, to be replaced by the stoic and emotionless mask that she knew too well. He was hiding the hurt and Buffy just wished that she could alleviate him of that pain. 

"Spike…" she started but he waved her off. 

"So where's the Niblet?" He stared at the chain around her neck, her hair draped across one shoulder, even her eyebrows. But he avoided her eyes at all costs. What a fool he was! Did he really expect to come back and her not move on? Well, to be honest, since he didn't _plan _on returning, her moving on was a moot point, though he hoped that she'd find a good bloke to treat her right. It really wouldn't have an effect on him, now would it? What did they always say? Out of sight, out of mind. That was how he planned to handle everything, but she just had to show up, begging him to come back. 

__

And who was the ponce that agreed to come back? He thought bitterly. Buffy didn't twist his arm, (though he didn't doubt that she would have if he hadn't been so cooperative), so he couldn't put it on her. Maybe he could put it on the whelp…hell, Xander was the one that brought Construction Boy with him at her party two years ago, he probably introduced her to the git who gave her that ring, too. 

As much as he wanted to ask her about it all, Spike was terrified. For some reason, putting it all to words made it all the more real—and that was something he just couldn't deal with. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

"Slayer?" Buffy winced at the coolness of his tone. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, thoughts that had been muddled by the prospect of telling Spike some things he may or may not be able to deal with. But what did it matter? It wasn't like they would ever be together, would it? No, it was impossible. They couldn't be in the same room for more than a few minutes without either screwing each other silly or ripping into each other with scathing words and forceful punches. 

__

But that was the old Buffy and Spike, her newly found voice admonished.

__

But that part of us will always be there and you know it, the old voice screamed, and settled down, smugly when it felt Buffy's response. It was right. No matter how much they changed, underneath it all, under the brand new way of thinking and the new exterior, they were still the same Buffy and Spike, respectively. Even if things were different, even if her emotions weren't running high enough…

"She's gone…" Buffy said absently. She shook herself from the cusps of depression before masking her face with a cheesy smile. "Left a note saying she and some of her soon-to-be graduate friends went out to shop. There's a big party tonight she's going to. You know? Celebrate graduation and all."

"She's not going to set off commencement by blowing up a huge snake in the school, now is she?"

Buffy looked horrified at Spike, who smirked with almost a familiar smirk to him. Still, something was missing. 

"How did you…?"

"Well, one of the many perks with bein' best friends with the Slayer's sister," he said smugly, leaning back into the pillows, "is that you get all the dirt on said Slayer." He chuckled at her fish out of water pout and Buffy made a conscious effort not to leer at the way his stomach muscles bunched as his body shook with laughter…

__

Just like it shook when you were on top of him, his manhood buried to the hilt inside of you… 

"Yeah? Well, guess I'm gonna have to have a talk with the sister when she gets back." She was almost going to start back to teasing him when she saw his demeanor fall and this time she was sure that it wasn't because on the still-yet-to-be-explained ring on her finger. 

"Still dreading it, huh?" she asked though she already knew the answer. 

"Nope. Actually looking forward to having my intestines ripped from my belly and stuffed down my throat. Followed by a nice, pointy stake to the heart—not that it'd matter," his words, though sarcastic, held no bite to them. 

Instinctively, Buffy's hand found Spike's thigh and she squeezed it reassuringly. 

"You know you're not gonna be doing this alone, don't you?" His eyes were locked on her hand—the same one that happened to be adorned with a special trinket of jewelry and when she noticed, Buffy had to forcefully keep her hand in place. 

After several agonizingly slow seconds, Spike lifted his head and his blue eyes locked on her hazel jewels. 

"Yeah," he said weakly, "and it means a lot to me, luv. More than I can express to you." And then, just like last night, everything was perfect. The room disappeared around them, and all that existed was Spike and Buffy, finally together, finally at peace with one another. 

The moment passed as the phone rang, snapping them both out of their haze. 

"Better get that, luv," Spike chided. 

Reluctantly, Buffy rose from the bed and headed out the door. A split second later, she poked her head back in. 

"Why don't we go to lunch after you get dressed," the Slayer suggested. 

"Love to, but I have to get a room and…"

"Ok," she interrupted, "let me amend that. We are _going _to lunch after you get all goody smelling." And with a bright smile that tugged at Spike's heart, she was out the door. 

Shaking his head, Spike swung his legs out from under the covers and placed them on the soft carpet. The fabric under his bare feet relaxed him, something he hadn't really felt since stepping through the door last night, or rather, this morning. If he was going to face the gauntlet that was in store for him, he needed all the relaxation he could get. 

After a few minutes of stretching, Spike grabbed his toiletries from his bag and walked into the bathroom. His thoughts turned to Buffy and the new light that radiated from her. Whatever had happened after he left had given Buffy that same bright light he remembered seeing when he first laid eyes on her all those years ago. He still couldn't fathom the depths of her resolve. It was only one thing on the list of many that he loved about her. That made him fall so helplessly in love with her again. That wasn't exactly true, though, now was it? He had never fallen out of love with her to start with. Being with her, though, did make him love her even more, something he thought wasn't possible. 

But she had moved on, so he had to do the same. He didn't deserve her, never did and he had to get used to that fact. The upside was that she had made sure that he would become a part of her life again and even that felt like it was too good for him. 

Lost in his thoughts, as the heated water cascaded down his skin, Spike didn't even notice the fact that he was now in the room that had changed his life forever…

Twenty-five minutes later, Spike was dressed and headed downstairs. He wore a white tank top with coal-black khakis and black designer boots. His hair, still wet, bounced atop his head as he clamored down the steps with a bright smile on his face. As much as he tried, he couldn't hide his excitement for spending the day with his new friend--Buffy. Though a part of him lamented at the 'friend' aspect of it all, he couldn't help but remain grateful for her offering that. 

Hopping over the banister, Spike landed on the balls of his feet, hardly making a sound. _Still got some of the Big Bad left, I do. _The shower had eased much of the tension that the coming day brought and he had decided that, before the debacle that would be his re-acquaintance with the Scoobies, he would have all the fun he could stand. Starting with sneaking up on the Slayer. 

As the kitchen came into view, he saw her sitting on the island, her back turned. She was staring out the window, her head cocked to the side. _This is just too perfect; _he thought and was about to make his move when she spoke. 

"Garrett, stop," she chuckled. Spike stiffened at the way she said the man's name, a flare of jealousy rippling through him. 

"I don't know when," Spike noticed her voice had become more serious. "No, it's okay. I mean I know this is hard on you, too. I'm glad you understand…whatever--jerk," he knew she was trying to hide her smile at the last comment. Not wanting to intrude (and definitely not wanting to hear her say something that would surely break his heart) Spike leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed at the chest before coughing discreetly. 

Buffy yelped at the cough, jumping off the island and dropping the phone. She picked it up and glared evilly at Spike, whose only reply was the traditional smirk. 

"Sorry, ba…Garrett. Oh, nothing. It was no on…" she stopped after catching the tinge of hurt that crossed Spike's face before amending her statement. "It's one of my best friends…the one I went to see in San Diego…yes, Garrett, him…. Please don't start with that--I'm gonna have my hands full already when it comes to Xander and Dawn…**she laughed**…you two are just alike…" Spike saw the smile disappear and a frown crease her face. "Garrett, look, if I can get over it, you can too…shit, Xander shouldn't have even told you…Yeah, that's part of the reason, but you and I both know how he feels about Spike and he just wanted someone else to hate him too…. But you should know, I told you what happened…you didn't need to know all of it…okay, this is getting no where and I have to go…no, I am not trying to avoid it…ok, well maybe I am…out to lunch. Anything else, oh Emperor of Buffy? --Shut up. Okay, talk to you later." 

She clicked off the cordless, set it on the island, and stared intently at Spike. Though he was slightly (no, _very_) disappointed at Buffy's obvious affection for whomever was on the other line, he was determined not to let it ruin his day--well not too much, at least. 

"So," he said and sauntered into the kitchen, his shirt clinging to his muscles, "who was the git on the other end?"

Buffy stared at Spike, though there was hardly any malice in it. In truth, it was quite the opposite. 

Although she had seen him shirtless earlier in bed, she really didn't get as good a look as she was getting now. He had put on about twenty pounds of muscle. His chest, though retaining that steely hardness, puffed out more and his arms were even more defined (though she noticed they weren't super-veiny, thank goodness) His legs were also affected by the change, his thighs in particular--that much was evident even through the loose fitting khakis. 

After the once-over, Buffy realized she was staring and a hot flush crept up her face and neck. Spike laughed to himself, though on the outside he maintained the same sultry veneer. _At least I know I still affect her, _he told himself, registering the glazed over look of lust he was all-too familiar with. 

Taking in the rest of the scene before him, Spike whistled appreciatively at her attire. Her hair was braided in a tight ponytail and she was wearing a crème-colored tank top that exposed her midriff if she raised her arms slightly. Matching Capri pants and a pair of Skechers completed the ensemble. 

He stopped about a foot in front of her and, despite his lessened senses, he could still smell the tinge of arousal intermixed with her vanilla shampoo. Deciding to be bold, Spike leaned over to her, brushing his cheek against her and whispered in her ear, "Very nice."

Buffy could hardly breathe. This close to him was too much. What pissed her off, though she was powerless to fight it, was the fact that she knew he was doing this on purpose. As his skin brushed against hers, that same aching pressure, too low to mention, coursed through her and she wanted nothing more than to feel all of him against her. 

As he pulled away, Buffy unconsciously placed her hand on his chest. Spike was caught off-guard by this, considering that he was the one that was supposed to be playing the game. Her tiny hand burned through him, effecting him no less than it did when his skin was cool. It was different but, at the same time, familiar. He stared down into her eyes, as lust-filled as he had ever seen them. Her lips were slightly parted and her chest heaved up and down. Her neck craned forward minutely but it was enough to spark him to action. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Buffy realized what was going to happen as Spike leaned down, his lips parting further with every inch he closed between them. Part of her was screaming not to, reminding her of Garrett while the other part wanted nothing more than to have him on the floor. As it was, a third part won out, waiting for him to make contact before deciding…

Spike's heart was hammering in his chest as he closed the gap between Buffy's lips and his own. His forehead had broken out in a light sweat when she had first touched him and now, he felt a trickle of perspiration claw down the side of his face. The hands that were once dormant at his side were now lightly grasping Buffy by the waist, pulling her forward. They were almost there and, on instinct, he closed his eyes, noticing before he did, that Buffy did the same. For two years, he had dreamed about this moment, never expecting it to happen. But it was about to happen. So close…so close…so… 

"Hey, Buffy I forgot my…" the voice came as the back door was pulled open. The former lovers jumped at the noise and backpedaled from one another, shocked by what had almost happened. 

"Spike?" Came the familiar voice of the teen and both finally cast eyes toward the door. Standing with her eyes bulging, mouth agape, was Dawn. 

"Hey, Niblet," Spike managed, running a hand through his moist hair. Though his heart hammered in his chest, it was fear that now drove it. He forced himself to look his Niblet in the eye and was almost elated at what he saw. 

Her brilliant embers lit up with love and excitement at seeing him and, for a moment, her joy was barely contained. But as moments are, it passed and what took its place broke Spike's heart. 

Her green eyes held a gaze as cold as Spike had seen any demon with. Her face was a mask, unreadable though everything was in her eyes. The cold gaze not only held hurt and contempt, but a loathing Spike had not known her capable of. And when she spoke, her voice razor sharp and unforgiving, Spike tried to force the tears from welling. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" All he could do was close his eyes because he knew the tears would not listen. 

**Am I wrong or what? Well, I should have part five up no later than next Tuesday. I'm starting up Part II of Family Ties, so I will have to split time between the two. 

**I have a lot planned for Spike and Buffy and some stuff you will love and other stuff--well, I won't tell you. You'll just have to read--and review. 8-)


	5. Part V

Do What You Have to Do

Part V

Seven words. 

That was all it had taken to transform the heated atmosphere of the kitchen into a chilled, oppressive wasteland of hurt. 

Not ten seconds before, Spike had been so close to realizing his dream of the last two years; to have his lips joined against Buffy's once more. He had been so close to feeling the love of his life pressed against him, not in comfort, but in desire for him. He had seen it in her eyes, how they had glistened at him, taking him in and, for a brief moment, he felt that she was seeing him for the first time. For two years, all he had thought about was her looking up at him in acceptance. 

Now, all that crossed the former vampire's mind was what he could say to this girl--no, young woman--that stared at him with a contempt that crushed his already aching heart. Not having the courage to meet her eyes again, Spike took to staring at his feet as one hand nervously ran through his hair. 

Buffy had been just as surprised at her reaction to Spike as he was. The warmth that had spread throughout her body as his hands rested on her hips had been even more intense than the deep embrace they shared the night before. She had a feeling as to why, but her brain could not quite process the information since all she could see were the waves of disdain that radiated from her little sister like a sick plague. The intensity of the air was suffocating and Buffy pulled unconsciously at her shirt, pleading for air to grace her lungs reasonably. 

She stared at Dawn, whose rigid posture reminded Buffy of a rattlesnake, coiled to strike and the slayer frantically searched for the words to diffuse the oncoming apocalypse before it came to pass. 

"Dawn," she finally managed, though her voice was devoid of both strength and authority. 

Dawn chanced a brief glance at her sister before returning her eyes to the one person she hated more than anyone. It was ironic that it was the same person that she had held more faith in than anyone else--the same person that had not left, not like her dad or mom, not like Buffy. He was the only safe thing in her life, watching over her when the others were too busy to notice, or care. He was her first love (at least that is what she thought) and her best friend and he treated her not like a child but an adult and with that, he held her accountable as such. A part of her couldn't help but smile at how proud he would be when he found out how much she had grown up and all she wanted was to see that doting smile saved especially for her. She wanted to see him swoon at how she had grown into such a beautiful young woman. But that sliver of her was beaten down, gagged and locked away in the recesses of her mind, hijacked by the anger and pain of what he had done to her. 

He left. 

When she had first found out what he had tried to do to Buffy, she was beyond hurt. It hadn't mattered the reasons, there were no excuses for what he had done and Dawn had sworn she would never forgive him, despite how that promise to herself had ripped into her guts. It wasn't until Buffy had pled with her to let it go that Dawn forgave him. Though she had denied it, the usually oblivious Buffy had seen right through Dawn's façade of indifference and the teen had cried in Buffy's arms that night though she didn't know why until several months later; it had been then that she accepted the fact that she would never see him again. She had forgiven him for hurting Buffy, but Dawn would never forgive him for leaving when she needed him most. When _they _needed him most. 

The anger surging through her blood was barely enough to mask the hurt and elation at seeing him and her inherited stubbornness was all that kept Dawn from running into his arms, crying into his chest. Despite her resolve, however, Dawn couldn't prevent the single tear that cascaded down her cheek just as Spike brokered the courage to look her in the eye. 

"Niblet," he choked, his throat burning painfully. He didn't realize he was moving until his hand hesitantly wiped the stray tear from her cheek. He pulled away when he saw the minute flinch of her eyes, the seething hatred dying down to a fraction of what it was. The mask was broken and Spike saw as the young woman slowly crumbled and the wide-eyed, gangly teen with a crush on him crawled to the surface. 

Spike waited nervously as her eyes began to water in earnest and her mouth opened to say something before a double toot of a horn broke the spell. 

All three occupants jumped at the unexpected noise and Buffy inhaled sharply. She had watched with a gnawing fear as Spike walked over to her sister and was more than surprised when Dawn hadn't lashed out at him. She didn't even move, from what Buffy saw, when he brushed her cheek and she knew that it would only a matter of seconds before her little sister threw her arms around the former vampire and sobbed her heart out. 

But with the moment interrupted, Dawn came back to her senses and frowned as she noticed Spike's proximity to her. Without thinking, she pushed past him and into the living room, muttering to Buffy that she had forgotten her wallet. Seconds later, the thundering slam of the front door let the couple realize that they were again alone. 

Neither spoke for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts. The pain in Buffy's chest was a shared pain and she empathized with both her ex-lover and sister. She had been there when Dawn had given up hope of ever seeing Spike again and the teen had fallen into a depression that had been worse than when their mother had died. Thankfully, it hadn't lasted long and when it was over, she had never mentioned Spike again. Though she was not rude, Dawn let her displeasure show if his name was ever mentioned by calmly walking out of the room. Of course, the worst had been the issue over the leather duster. 

At first, after Dawn had forgiven Spike for his attack on Buffy, she had begged her older sister to let her wear it on patrol and the elder Summers had begrudgingly assented. For two months they alternated between wearing it on patrol until one night Dawn had thrown it in a garbage can, intent on setting it afire. Buffy had stopped her before she lit the match but it had disturbed the slayer greatly. Dawn never told her why she was going to do it but Buffy had seen the glassy look of her sister's eyes and knew…

That had been the night when she had given up, and Buffy's heart broke. Dawn had run to Buffy's arms and cried, the duster crushed between them. Buffy held her for over an hour before the tears subsided and that had been the last time Dawn had cried over Spike. 

In truth, it had been the last time Dawn had cried over anything--until today. 

Buffy didn't know what to think or do as she watched Spike. She wanted to go to him and comfort him, but where would that lead? She didn't trust herself enough to offer only a kind word without it being followed by a gentle caress that would, in turn, melt into a reassuring kiss that… No, she would let him break the silence when he was ready. She only hoped that when he did want to talk that her words would be enough. 

Spike leaned weakly against the counter top, a hand covering his face as the other helped support his shaky legs. He couldn't believe how beautiful his Niblet had become and for a moment he could almost forget about the pain and anger in her eyes and focus on the young woman that was ready to walk out into the world. God, he was so proud of her and all he wanted to do was embrace her and whisper it to her as he stroked her hair. 

But it was a fleeting vision as reality came crashing down around him. For an instant, Spike had seen her elation from seeing him though it had been quickly buried and though her anger had almost overwhelmed him, the other emotion that was within her completely sideswiped him. It had been in Buffy's eyes that night and he'd know it anywhere. 

Disappointment. 

For whatever reason, disappointment was harder than anger to deal with. At least with anger, he could offer his body or mind to be ripped and shredded in two, until the rage was satiated. Hell, he had done that very thing with Buffy on several occasions, letting her pound him into oblivion just because he knew that it was a sort of therapy to her, allowing her to release emotions that she could not figure how do deal with in any other way. True, it was violent and painful, but he had always been a masochist at heart. He chuckled as he thought of when Buffy had told him that--how he was in love with pain. The dry amusement quickly faded as his mind pictured two sets of green eyes. They were different shades but both held the same air of disappointment that reached into his guts and tore straight into his soul and all the fists in the world wouldn't make it better for either one. Neither Buffy nor Dawn could seek the closure they needed by Spike offering his body as a punching bag. Luckily, Buffy seemed to be coming around and he hoped he would never see that look in her face again. But Dawn--that was a different story. 

A story with a gaping hole in its plot that he had no idea how to fix. 

***

The walk to the Expresso Pump is relatively both short and definitely silent. The shock of seeing Dawn is still registering within me and I have no idea what to do about it. I had thought the guilt of one hundred years of killing was bad, but it's nothing compared to the look I saw today in my Niblet's eyes. 

My Niblet. Can't really call her that anymore. She has grown so much in two years and not only visually. I can see the difference in her aura clear as the sun rising in the east. The fractured and self-conscious girl I knew is gone and I want to cry for that. Not because she has grown but because I wasn't here to see it. 

God, I sound like the great poof himself. Next thing you know, I'll be stuck with high hair and someone will show up explaining the less than finer points of my new little body--namely that I'd have to get my rocks off with five of my closest friends. 

Bugger that; I'd kill myself before that happens. Course, it's been two years since…well, it's been two years. 

"Whatcha thinking about?" Buffy asks, her eyes shine spectacularly in the midday sun and I can see her wonder at seeing me in the light for the first time. 

"Just hoping my little transformation doesn't bugger up me hole like Peaches," she smiles at me and the little tinglies under my skin are alive and kicking once again. 

"Why do you call him that? Peaches, I mean?"

I take a sip from my mocha (not too bad, though still not on par with some good ole English brew, or a nice shot of the dancing worm) and smirk, with just a touch of sensuality thrown in for good measure. Oh, it works all right and I hide my satisfied smile when her cheeks blush slightly and her eyes fall to her cup of joe. 

"You don't wanna know, luv," I reply, "you don't wanna know." She nods, taking my word for it and I'm glad for that. Sure as hell don't wanna break it to her about her first love's past sexual proclivities. 

We are silent for several minutes, taking in the scenery on this lovely day and, on the side, casting glances at one another like some shy teenagers. I can't help but admire how beautiful she is with the rays of the sun bouncing from her golden skin and it puts me in mind of an angel. Not one of the stumpy little baby angels with the fat wings and diapers, but the scary-as-hell-smiting-down-armies-with-a-single-swipe-of-a -sword angel. She is deadly in her element, bringing death upon demons like a plague. But she is just as deadly in the light of day, her radiance threatening to blind all who dare look upon her. Cor, she is beautiful and, though I know I don't deserve her, I want her to be mine. 

_Fat chance of that happening _a voice sounds in my head my eyes catch the reflecting brilliance of the stone resting on her finger. My gaze does not linger, however, though my mind does. My Buffy is engaged. My slayer has promised herself to some bloody ponce who I'm gonna rip apart if…

_If what? _Damn, it's that bloody voice again. _Go ahead **William, **_it goads. Fuckin git. It spits out my given name as if it is something dirty and tainted. _Well isn't it? _It asks mockingly and I just can't help but wish to have this voice personified in a living, breathing body so I can pound it's bloody face and it's sancti-fuckin-monious attitude into oblivion. Just five minutes is all I'd need. Five minutes, some guitar string, a slap jack and, of course, one or two never-been-used railroad spikes. Hell, I could even throw in a chain saw--Angelus said something about those…

_You haven't changed _the voice whispers and I wince. Not just because of the words but with the resignation that it says them with. _No, and you will never change, _it continues. _All the bloody trouble you went through to get a soul and where has it gotten you? A nice, healthy dose of guilt for your actions. The same actions you would gladly repeat if someone made you mad enough. _

I want to bellow from the bloody rafters how wrong that is but it isn't. Raking both hands through my hair, I mull over some of the thoughts I've had in the past two years and can't deny I've thought about killing several times in that time. Course, aside from the occasional prat in traffic or the bloody gits working the cash registers in retail and fast food establishments, only two faces have danced in my mind regularly and I catch myself salivating over the prospects of hearing them scream. And the giddiness sometimes feels so good at them cowering under my glare that I have to fight the urge that pleads with me to find them and take care of them, William the Bloody style. S'not like they would be missed 'cept by a handful of people. 

Course one of those people just so happens to be sitting directly across the table from me, staring at me with those childlike eyes of innocence. Yes, I said innocence cuz, for all she has seen and done, Buffy still has an innocence about her that I can't quite explain. It's there in her eyes, buried deep behind the pain and suffering that her calling has bestowed upon her, like it is beginning to be set free--awaiting for the key that will set it lose and…

I shake the thoughts away, feeling too much like the bloody awful poet of days long past. My thoughts return to the whelp and Captain America, AKA the vampire pin cushion. Don't know what she sees in 'em but the fact that she cares about 'em grants 'em a stay of execution. Huh. No, as much as I liked to do it, I wouldn't kill 'em and not just because it'd hurt Buffy. Well, that's a huge part of it but not all. If two years have taught me anything, it's that most people are good people. They may have faults from 'A to Z' and back again, but their hearts are in the right place. And as much as I loath to admit it--and I mean loath with a capital 'L' written in bright, shiny colors--Harris and Finn have their good qualities about 'em. They fight the good fight, protecting those that will never know their sacrifices. They could have turned their backs to it all long ago, but they didn't. They face danger everyday, not shying away from the potential of death that hovers over them like a vulture, patiently awaiting for them to fall face first into the sands of death. The more I think about it, the more I admire them--they truly are heroes. 

'Course, that doesn't mean that I'm not gonna kick their arses when I see 'em. 'Specially Harris. See how bad his is now that the Big Bad is de-chipped. 

I push those thoughts aside for a moment and take in the fact that Buffy cares about them. She loves them both and would die to protect them. It's almost as if they are a part of her extended family, protected under the expansive and caring arms of the slayer. She's always there when they need her and that thought makes me wonder…I can understand why she would be there for them, considering they have, God help me, redeeming qualities about them. But me…

"Why did you send Angel to look for me?" The question spills from my mouth even before the thought is completed in my head. 

I watch Buffy intently, noticing the minute stiffening of her body and I can tell this is something she doesn't really want to answer right now. 

She shrugs it off and answers casually, "Because I knew if anyone could find you, it'd be him," and before I can ask why again she adds in a voice that is no more than a whisper "and I missed you." I smile like a bleedin idiot but it's okay considering she graces me with a timid smile of her own. By the look in her eyes I can see there is so much more to the answer than she is saying but I won't press her. Besides, I don't even think she has it all figured out. 

"Spike," she says as she studies her hands intently, rubbing them together before they disappear under the table and presumably into her lap. 

"Yeah, luv?" I ask and take another sip of my mocha (gonna have to order one of those soddin cappuccino makers when I get a chance).

She's rocking slightly in her seat now and her lips are set in a tight line, worry lines etched around her eyes. Those few things tell me two things: 1) that whatever she's about to say is serious and 2) she really doesn't wanna tell me. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out, though. S'bout the blighter on the phone, same one that probably put that ring on her finger. My blood is screaming in my veins, jealousy and anger begging to be released but my emotions remain under lock and key and I wipe my face of emotions, save for mild curiosity. I've been wonderin' how long it would take for her to come clean and as glad as I am that she's about to be honest with me, part of me wants her to shut up before she lays it all out for me. Cuz once the words are out, it all becomes real and I can no longer pretend that she's just wearing a ring that caught her fancy at the mall. 

"There's something…something I want to tell you," she's trying hard to be strong but I catch the unmistakable waver in her voice. Her hesitation would be kind of cute if it wasn't for the knife playing connect the dots with my entrails right about now. 

I give her a wan smile and a nod of encouragement. I know how hard it must be to come clean and though a part of me is bitter about it and wants to make it as difficult as possible, the reasonable side (go figure--William the Bloody being reasonable) doesn't want to hurt her any more than I already have. 

"S'alright, luv," I reassure her, "you can tell me anything." She smiles meekly and goes back to studying her hands resting in her lap. 

"It's so…I don't know. I mean, I know the stuff that happened between us was fucked up," I perk my eyebrows at her choice of words, considering she doesn't talk like that unless she's all hot & horny or brassed off. "And I know that I've already told you that we need to work through it all together. 

"The thing is," she takes a sip of her joe, "that despite what I said earlier--about not talking about _it_, I think that, sooner or later, we'll have to."

I nod solemnly before speaking, wanting to pick my words carefully. "Buffy, that…that night was the worst night of my life. The things I did, the things I said, they…" but she holds her hand up my mouth shuts. 

"I know, Spike. But I don't want to talk about that now. I mean, we need to talk about it, and I mean soon, just so that we can begin our healing in earnest. But, considering we probably will be two pretty mopey and not-good-to-be-around people afterwards, I'd rather wait until Dawn graduates." I can't hide the wince that accompanies me at the mention of my Niblet and Buffy spots it right away. 

"You've think you've lost her," she tells me. The lump in my throat prevents a response so I nod somberly. 

"Spike," she says and before I know it, her warm hand is pressed against mine before she squeezes it gently. "You haven't lost her."

I laugh at that, albeit it's hollow even to my ears. "Sorry, pet, but gotta disagree with you there. If you think I haven't then I don't think you saw the look in the Bit's eyes. Oh, I've lost her, alright."

Buffy squeezes my hand again, 'cept this time it's hard enough to be uncomfortable. My questioning eyes find hers and the bare determination in her hazel jewels shuts my gob quite effectively. 

"Spike, just listen for once in your life." My scarred eyebrow arches in slight amusement and Buffy gives me a quick grin. "Yeah, I know, pot and kettle," then she goes all serious girl on me. I swear she must have been hanging around Watcher-man quite a lot these past few years. 

"Trust me, Spike, you haven't lost her. Now, that's not to say that you haven't got major groveling in your future, but you'll win her back. You always have."

I shake my head, more in the conviction behind her words than my doubt at its truth. "Yeah, but don't remember the last time I attacked her sis and tried to…"

"Cattle prod. Crypt. Chains. Drusilla." She counts the four off from pinky to pointer before wiggling them in my face in that "need I say more?" way of hers. I blanch internally and though I know my argument is a bit tired but I won't give up. S'not my style. 

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't as bad as…_that._" I almost cheer in the resigned look she gives me. Let's me know that I've done it again. Never been one to lose a battle of wits with the slayer, least not when I'm tryin' to make a bleedin' point, that is. 

"You're right, Spike," she says and her voice is hard and I can't help but feel like my insides are being dragged across thousands of sharp rocks. "That night…in the bathroom was much worse than the whole 'give-me-a-crumb' ideological genius you showed with Dru and the cattle prod." My head sinks at the lack of emotion in her voice but find my head lifted by a dainty finger. She's moved over to sit next to me and I don't even remember seein' her move. Bugger, I must be out of it. 

"The thing you don't realize, Spike, is that what you did to me has nothing to do with the way she was looking at you." I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice when I speak. 

"Are you off your bird? You mean to tell me that all the hate and anger and bloody disappointment in the Bit's eyes today had nothing to do with the little stunt I pulled?"

"Yes, it does have to do with the 'little stunt' you pulled," the irritation in her voice is bubbling over but she keeps her cool, "but it's not quite the 'little stunt' that you think it is." 

"Then tell me, oh wise one," I don't pretend to hide my annoyance, either, "what is it that has our residential teen throwing daggers at me?"

"You left." 

***

Spike almost doubled over at the impact of the words. Like a sledge hammer (or a cathedral falling onto you) the pain that ripped through his insides was incapacitating. His eyes were transfixed on the petite blond next to him and his mouth was agape, all words lost to him. _You left. _The two words drilled themselves into the core of his emotionally exhausted soul, another painful weight that his metaphysical shoulders had to bare. 

Buffy had never seen the anger drain from Spike so quickly and she was slightly unnerved by it. After the words spilled from her mouth she instantly regretted her spiteful tone. It wasn't that she was trying to hurt him, but she had been irritated by his 'I'm so perceptive and I know everything' attitude that the callousness just seeped into her voice. 

_God, I am such a bitch, _she thought again as she studied the former vampire's chest as it mechanically rose and fell. She was too much of a coward to look at him, because she had seen the immediate effect her words had in his eyes. A crushing despair called out from them, and she saw the pleading in them. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for her to end the pain that raged on within him. And it hurt her to see him so vulnerable--it hurt bad: almost as much as the night in the bathroom, except that this was all his pain she was feeling, not some sick and twisted combination of the two of them. Or was it?

The more Buffy thought about it, the more she realized that the bitterness that laced those two words was not entirely from her annoyance with him. The truth was that, as much as he had hurt her when he attacked her, Buffy had been more scarred by the fact that he had left. Not only did he leave--she did understand his reasons--but he didn't come back, _wouldn't _have come back if she hadn't found him. Admitting that his leaving hurt more than the bathroom incident to herself was bad enough but it would be much worse actually speaking the words to Spike. She just hoped to God he didn't notice her own grudge against him for leaving. 

But Spike had noticed it. In fact, the first thing he had seen when she had said that was how it had affected her. It wasn't that he disregarded what his leaving had done to Dawn, but since she wasn't here and Buffy was, he prioritized the slayer's feelings. 

The silence between them was nothing new and, in fact, had been a staple of their conversations over the past fourteen hours. Still, this ebb was worse than the others and Buffy didn't know why. Maybe it was because they were out in the sun--together--and it was a time for celebration and not heartache. Maybe it was the way she had felt the pain of him leaving re-open as she spat out those two small words. Or maybe it was because she was scared--scared of what she wanted from him and scared that she may not have changed as much as she thought. 

Finally, after a few more minutes, after the waiter had collected their now cold drinks, Buffy chanced a look at Spike's eyes. 

"Spike," she said and gently touched his knee. The warmth radiated through the cotton of his pants and she knew that it would take some time getting used to. 

"Spike," she called again, rubbing her hand comfortingly against his leg. When he finally looked into her eyes, she wanted to hide from the pain there but forced herself to meet it. _Seems like a pattern for the day, Buff, _she thought miserably. 

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he finally choked out, his eyes watery but his tears at bay. "God, I'm so sorry." She winced at his confession but gave him a knowing smile. 

"That's good, Spike. It really is--" she took a deep breath, "but I don't think I'm the one that you need to apologize to." She felt him tense underneath her palm and jerked her hand back when she saw the blue fire in his eyes. 

"Are you sure about that?" The nervous energy vibrated off him and Buffy knew it was taking all his self-control not to jump up and pace back and forth. 

Spike could tell he was about to lose it and consciously engaged the deep breathing techniques he learned in Africa. He would have used it during their other talks but he had wanted Buffy to see all of him, every tear, every ounce of self-disgust. But flying off at the handle in a public establishment was not the way to go. 

After three fulfilling inhalations, the angst coursing through him was halved and he trusted himself to speak again. "Sorry, luv," he said and snorted almost immediately. 

"What?" Buffy asked. She was now leaning closer to him as she had noted the drastic change that had taken place. 

"S'nuthin--just seems that all I have to give out are apologies. Hurtin' you in the…in the bathroom like I did then leavin' you--"

"Spike. I've already dealt with that," she lied and cursed when Spike arched an eyebrow at her in that annoying way of his that informed her that he, in fact, did know."

"Leavin' hurt you, didn't it? Hurt you more than what I tried to do." The last part was not a question and it was Buffy's turn to look away, counting to ten to keep her feelings firmly in check. She didn't know whether to tell him the truth or brush it aside but, considering the old Buffy would have reveled expertly in the latter, she took the higher and, ultimately, more difficult, road. 

"Yeah," she whispered, "it did." She was grateful to feel his hand against the bare skin of her leg and his silence. Now that she had told him the truth, she wanted to divest herself of all her pent-up feelings of abandonment. 

"Like I told you last night, it took me awhile before I got over…that night. But I did. Get over it. That's not to say that I wasn't still hurt by it and judging by my actions last night, I think you pretty much had that part figured out." He smiled wanly and it gave her the confidence to continue. 

"But what I hadn't forgotten, or even really admitted to myself, was how bad it hurt when I found out that you left. When I brought Dawn over to the crypt the night I got shot…" she held a hand up to him and the fury in his eyes died down somewhat. He had already known about it, but the casual way she tossed it out reminded him all too much of how precious her life was. "Anyway, even though there were like a million things going on around me at the time, I was kinda numb to it. Especially after the bathroom...thing. After I stopped crying, I didn't think there was anything that could make me feel—much less make me feel worse," she saw him wince but continued, "but when Clem told me you left…God." Tears sprang of their own accord and slithered down Buffy's cheeks though she didn't notice. "When he looked at me with those big eyes of his and told me that you didn't say when you were coming back…a part of me, a part that I didn't even know was there, was ripped out. It was kinda like…like…"

"Seeing me with Anya," he whispered a gently brushed a few of her tears away with his thumb. Buffy leaned into his hand and nodded. 

"Yeah. Another one of those nice surprises for Buffy. I mean, when I saw you with Anya, man, it hurt so bad. And it surprised me, like some sort of ironic sucker punch. Here I was, commending myself for getting under control, taking responsibility for things and not giving in and then 'Pow'," she punched her palm with the other hand. "Down for the count."

"I didn't know," Spike murmured and it was by force of will alone that he did not drop his eyes from her face. 

"How could you? I mean, it hadn't been even six hours since I had given you the big 'get over it/move on' spiel. I knew I still wanted you and everything, but I had convinced myself that it was nothing more than physical—like you were the perfect balm to soothe my numb soul or something. But it wasn't until I saw you with Anya that I had to admit to myself that I really did care for you—and not just as a fling-thing, either."

"You told me," he said and this time he did look down, "before I attacked you. You told me that you did have feelings for me. It was the most you had ever admitted about what you felt—it should have been enough. It should have been…" but Buffy silenced him with a kiss. 

There was nothing passionate or lustful in the way their lips touched but it was soulful nonetheless. For the few seconds their lips held, they both felt the pain of that night drift away from them, replaced by forgiveness and understanding. And though they knew that the hurt from that night would never fully disappear, they could live with that because it would only remind them how far they had come in changing who they were. 

"Thank you," Spike murmured into Buffy's neck as she hugged him close. His left hand stayed on her leg while he snaked his arm around her waist. The tender feel of her against him was even greater than it was last night and he surmised that it was the fact that there wasn't just pain involved. 

"No," she said and pulled away enough to look him in the eye, "thank you. You have always been there for me, Spike. Even when we were mortal enemies, you were my one constant—always keeping me on my toes. If I could count on one thing back then, it was that you would somehow worm your way into my life and annoy me," they both laughed at that before she continued. "Back then, I thought of you just as that, an irritation—well, at least when you got the chip since I didn't have to worry about you killing me. But there were times when you were really there for me. 

"The whole ordeal with Glory really opened my eyes to what you could be, who you really were after you got through the layers of the Big Bad. You would have given your life to keep Dawn safe and you almost did—twice. When I kissed you after Glory tortured you, the reason I didn't say anymore than I did was because I didn't know what to say. No one had ever done something like that from me and it scared me. Not because of the sacrifice but because you were a vampire and, as you know, in my book, vampires were bad. There was no such thing as a vampire who would give himself up for another and when I had proof that you did just that…" the tears had begun anew but Buffy wouldn't let it deter what she had to say, "I was thrown for a loop. Why? Because, even then, I was attracted to you." When he arched his eyebrow in surprise, she slapped him gently on the arm. "Don't let it go too much to your head, freak." She blushed slightly before she added, "I mean, you are kinda cute and all." Spike only smiled, posting everything for later use—much later.

"Anyway, it really freaked me out but, as things were, I really didn't get a chance to evaluate it all. It wasn't until you left, though, that everything sorta came together. I remembered all the times I was so mean to you—how we were so mean to each other—and then the times that you were there for me, just to listen. Like when I found out about my mother's illness. Or the time I thought I had driven Dawn away and you went looking for her with me. No matter what we did or said to one another, you had a way of forgetting everything, even your pain, to be there for me and, let me tell you—coming back from the dead? —Brings out some serious bitchiness. But even that didn't turn you away from me. And when…when I saw that you left, it hurt more…more than Angel leaving."

Buffy's admission sideswiped the sandy-haired man and he couldn't keep his thoughts from spinning endlessly in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, deciding to let Buffy finis her confession. 

Sighing deeply, Buffy was unaware of the effects that her last words had on Spike. All she knew was that if she didn't finish this now that, despite all her claims of being 'new & improved', she might never get it out. 

"When Angel left, the second time, even though it hurt, I kind of expected it. Aside from him telling me in advance, I just had the feeling, when he came back from hell, that it was only going to be a temporary deal. I don't know why, I just did. And even though my mind had accepted that as a fact, my heart got in the way and refused to process it. Not only did I really love him—big time, scary-like…but he was also my knight in shining armor," she snorted, "I know, it sounds way corny but it's true. Not just for the obvious reasons like the dangerous and mysterious older man and the whole fighting by my side thing. The reason was much simpler. 

"He was the first man to be there for me when my father decided I wasn't so important anymore." Buffy choked back a sob as fresh memories of Angel's departure meshed with the disappointment and heartbreak that Hank Summers had inflicted on his first born. Only the firm yet gentle hands that grasped her shoulders kept the slayer from breaking down. 

"S'alright luv," Spike assured as he ran his fingers up and down her bare arms, "you can stop if you want to." As much as he wanted to hear her finish, part of him wanted her to stop because it hurt him so much to see her like this—especially knowing that he caused it. 

The reason Spike had never come back, aside from the satisfaction in knowing that he would live with the guilt of what he had done to her as his punishment, was that he never really thought that she would miss him; in fact, the thought never crossed his mind. He had just known that one look at him and she would have reflexively shoved a stake straight through his beating heart and he would have deserved it. But her confession had changed even more between them than their earlier talks and he was completely lost on how to handle it all. 

Wiping her eyes with her palms, Buffy stared into the bright blue eyes that stared back at her. She had always thought that, though he cared for her as a vampire, the love (or whatever it was) he felt could never compare to the true love humans felt. But she knew, as she stared into the warmth of his blue waters that she had been wrong. Although there were slight differences in his eyes now, the love for her that shone from them was no different that it was two years ago. 

"Sorry," she said, smiling, "this was supposed to be a fun day, not 'Console the Crying Slayer'. God, I must look a mess," she said and grabbed a napkin from the table to finish the job of clearing her tears away. 

"I bet I look like a raccoon, don't I?" she asked him. 

Spike only smiled and Buffy felt the warmth of the simple gesture soar through her veins and all the way to her toes. 

"Doesn't matter, luv. You're always beautiful." Buffy grinned sheepishly to his casual, yet sincere compliment and she couldn't quite meet his eyes. 

But she wasn't quite finished just yet. 

"Spike," she said and kept the emotional wavering of her voice to a minimum, "I told you this so that you know just how much you meant to me, even then. I wasn't a good person during that time and, no matter what you say, that darkness that was in me rubbed off on you. I told you earlier that I had forgiving you for the bathroom incident and I have. There will be times when it will resurface, but I will never use it against you. I promise. 

"But, I have to be truthful. Leaving, even though you had your reasons, really hurt and though I have already forgiven you, will take a little longer to deal with. It's not your fault and I don't think there is anything you can do to help me through it since it's just my insecurities. So, if I regress into the bitch that was, please, just bare with me, okay?"

"Being there."

"Huh?" Buffy asked.

"I can help you," Spike said and kissed her on the cheek while his thumb traced along her jaw line, "by being there for you." He kissed the other jaw and finished by returning her previous chaste kiss she had given him. 

He then pulled away, despite noticing her mouth's invitation to deepen the kiss. He wanted to but there were still some things they had to clear up, starting with the little bit of jewelry around her finger. 

"I ran from you once, Buffy and though I may have had good reason, it still doesn't make running away any better." He took her hand in his a placed it over his heart and wiped all trace of emotion save for his grave seriousness at the promise he was about to make. 

"I won't do it again, luv, this I promise you. No matter what," he glanced poignantly at the ring before looking back into her eyes, "or who, is in the way, I will not run. Two years away hasn't changed how I feel about you and it hasn't changed my desire to see you happy. And whatever brings that light to you, I will not stand in the way of it. But I will not run. You will always be able to count on me—on my life I swear."

The depth of the words shook Buffy more than any of his declarations of love ever had. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that he would stick by his promise. She was grateful for this and yet she was terrified. She felt completely safe yet equally vulnerable and part of her itched to clam up and deny the tingling within her. Only by her promise to herself to change kept the denial away. She didn't know if it would have worked anyway, considering she had no clue what she was denying. 

Spike saw the war raging within his love and decided that they had had enough of the hurtful talk. _Maybe not all of it, _he thought, glancing at the ring. Ignoring the painful jab in his heart, Spike forced a smile before standing. 

"Well," he said before throwing a twenty down on the table, "I don't know about you, but as much as I love this place, I don't plan on spending my first official full day in SunnyHell admiring the flavors of joe this place has. Madam?" He asked, giving Buffy a gentlemanly bow and held his hand out for her to take. 

Even though she knew what he was doing, Buffy couldn't help but smile at Spike's chivalrous show. Wiping absently at her face, she took his hand and stood. 

"Why, I do declare," she said in her best southern-belle accent, "Sir William, you are just too much a gentleman."

"That, I am, luv. But of course," he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I can be quite the scoundrel if you'd like…" he completed the innuendo by grazing her ear with his lips and Buffy couldn't hold back the shudder that wracked her body. 

"Do you ever turn that down a notch?" she asked breathlessly. 

Looking at her with his sexiest look, that in of itself was enough to make her blush, Spike whispered demurely "For you, luv, that notch goes all the way to the top." He chuckled as her features darkened even more before leading her out onto the streets. 

"You know, I fancy a walk through the park. What about you, pet?" 

Buffy smiled, enjoying this new playful banter they had so easily slipped into. It was enough to make her forget about other issues that had to be dealt with. "The park is fine," she said and nudged him with her shoulder as she basked in the glow of just being happy. 

So caught up in one another, neither saw the surprised then murderous features of the brunette man staring bullets into the back of the former vampire before turning into the opposite direction. 

***I know it was supposed to be Dawn/Spike but, as with life, things come up. Just like the conversation Buffy and Spike were having steered into another direction. Don't blame me, the characters told me what to do…

***The next chapter will have Buffy and Spike enjoying the park--until, of course, they have that lil talk about a certain ring. I will have it up no later than Friday, Sept 6th (I know it's a long time but I want to write at least 3 chapters of Family Ties by then. 

***Any guesses who the 'brunette' was?? Well, you'll find out. 

***And to the Dawn/Spike people, in a chapter or two, I will have a chapter devoted just to them and what they have to say to one another. It will be rough, that's all I can say. 


	6. Part VI

__

Do What You Have to Do

Part VI

The beaming sun and cool breeze made the ten-minute walk to the park quite a comfortable jaunt. Spike studied with a child-like fascination the new and old sites of downtown Sunnydale. Two blocks from the Expresso Pump was a new club--Xanadu's--as well as several new shops. Most of the remaining shops had had moderate facelifts, though they retained their familiar monikers. 

"The more things change," he uttered to himself, impressed with the new yet familiar downtown. 

"The more they stay the same," Buffy finished for him and smiled when he beamed at her. As he turned his attention back to the streets, Buffy couldn't help but to be in awe of this new Spike that walked beside her. Just like this new town, he was so different, but the core, the glue that held him together, was still the Spike that she had first met outside the Bronze almost seven years ago. 

"What's so funny?" Spike asked when Buffy giggled softly at his side. 

"Nothing," on his smirk she clarified, "I mean it's just that--can you believe that we've known each other for like seven years now?"

He whistled at that. "And both of us are still alive. Fancy that."

"Tell me about it. Who would've thunk we'd make it this far." 

"Well," Spike replied, and he slung his arm casually over Buffy's shoulder, "I knew the whole time that I'd be around now. It was you, Slayer, that I didn't think would be around what with the Big Bad after you."

"Puleasse," she spat and jokingly pushed him away. "Like you ever had a shot at beating me." 

The former vampire stopped and stared at the petite blond incredulously. "Are you daft? Because I clearly remember your arse bein' saved by good ole Mummy dearest nearly braining yours truly with an axe to the head." He touched the back of his head for effect. "Bloody thing still 'urts," he muttered and pasted a sullen look on his face. 

"Oh my God," Buffy teased, "I can't believe it. The Big Bad's pouting cuz he got beat up by a couple of women."

"Did not!" The vampire replied indignantly and huffed when Buffy arched her eyebrow in victory. "Pushy little bint," he muttered before thrusting his hands in his pockets. 

"And proud of it," Buffy beamed and they walked the remainder of the jaunt through downtown in silence. 

Spike let Buffy lead the way, always half a step behind her. He told himself that it was because she knew the best place to sit in the park and that it had nothing--absolutely, positively nothing--to do with the pleasant view he received by cocking his head to the side, just like _so. _

Who am I kidding, he confessed, _it's all about the view. _The luscious view was, in part, to the tight Capri's that Buffy wore. Capri's that just so happened to be white and, thus allowing him a most intimate peek of the thongs that she was wearing. Though he could only discern the faint outline of said panties it was enough to get his mind churning with an assortment of visions of Buffy sans the pants. Then sans the shirt and--sod it all--naked as a jay bird! It had been two years since he had touched her in the overt sexual way that they used to share and now he wanted nothing more than that. 

__

S'not quite accurate, mate, He conceded. As much as he wanted Buffy in every position known to man (not to say that they hadn't experimented with an assortment of--hell, they had put the Kama Sutra to shame) there was something much more important to him. Something that would dwarf even the longest of their romps in the sack. It was so simple yet so difficult to obtain and as his hand brushed lightly against hers, he couldn't help but feel bitter at the fact that he would never get it. 

__

Is it that hard? He thought, frustrated. _Knew her for four years and some Joe Bloke rides from the shadows and steals her heart. S'bloody unfair if you ask me. _

Though she hadn't looked toward her companion since their last words, Buffy knew that his eyes were on her. A very specific part of her, to be exact and the slayer couldn't help but feel a bit giddy by his ocular attention to her backside. Of course, the giddiness transformed itself into an all-too-familiar warmth that nestled between her thighs and she couldn't help but be thankful that he couldn't detect her arousal like he used to. 

"Thank God for small favors," she said and was surprised that Spike didn't spew out a rejoinder. Curious, she glanced over at him and noticed the telltale signs of 'William in deep thought': the wrinkled eye brows, the slight jut of the lower lip though they were set in a straight line and the midnight flush of his eyes. Yeah, something was on his mind big-time. 

"Care to share?" Buffy asked innocently. The remark was enough to nudge Spike out of his reverie though it took him a minute to refocus his attention. 

"What was that, luv?" he asked and risked a stealthy glance at the curve of her hip. 

"Were you looking at my butt?" Buffy asked, feigning shock. She bit her cheek when she saw the blush creep up on his cheeks as he fumbled for something to say. 

"Wha…I…what?" Was all he got out before Buffy's tenuous hold on her laughter broke. 

Holding one hand to her stomach, Buffy fumbled her way to the closest bench where she then placed both hands over her aching body part and she doubled over in a cacophony of guffaws. 

In the blink of an eye (well, two blinks, actually) Spike had gone from embarrassed to angry to a prideful smirk at the sound of Buffy's laughter. As much as he hated to be the brunt of laughter in any situation, Spike couldn't hold in the warmth that coursed through him as he watched the love of his existence shake with laughter as the sun highlighted her immaculate features. In that moment, as her hair shook loose of the ponytail and her eyes teared in mirth, Spike knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this woman was a goddess. 

"Cor, you are beautiful," he said in amazement, unaware of his words until Buffy stopped in mid-laughter. 

Buffy stared at Spike wide-eyed, temporarily frozen by his simple declaration. It wasn't the words themselves or the sincerity behind them that tugged at her heart--he had said it often enough and though she never admitted it, it always touched her. 

Nor was it because he was human and, thus, had a soul. In his time gone, Buffy had realized that a soul did not mean one was entirely good. It took time for her brain to rationalize that the opposite was true as well. That despite his lack of a soul, Spike had definitely been on the side of good. He was by no means a white hat, but she now understood that there was no such thing as black and white. 

Buffy pushed that thought aside, knowing that if she let it, the regret of realizing the truth may have been achieved too late, would consume her and sullen the mood more than the upcoming talk would. 

She focused on his words and her feelings as he said them and she pinpointed why they affected her this time more than others. No longer was she bogged down by her sacred duty or the morose attitude of 'why me'. For the first time in years, Buffy Anne Summers was enjoying life and her heart was open to possibilities and emotions that had been impossible during her time with Spike. 

__

But what does that mean, Buffy? She asked herself, baffled at what the answer was. No, she couldn't think about Spike like that. Not now, maybe not ever. _But there was a definite maybe-age in there, Buff, _a tiny voice whispered. She wanted to bound and gag that voice, then pummel it into submission before shutting it in a crate and dropping it to the bottom of the ocean that was were her tumultuous thoughts. But she stayed her hand for, she knew that recently listening to the voice was most definitely 'of the good'. Hell, if she hadn't listened to it, she may have never seen Spike again. 

__

Okay, she admonished before it could sound again, _let's not get all with the partying just yet. There's still a lot we have to do before anything is settled_

So, the voice began, hopefully, _does that mean…?_

"Thank you," she replied bashfully to Spike's comment, effectively drowning out the remainder of what her new inner voice had to say. 

Spike looked up in surprised. When he saw the slightly frantic look in Buffy's eyes, he had cursed himself and went to study the ground as his foot kicked idly at some rocks. His first thought had been _too much, too fast, _though, considering the 'friendly' kiss they had shared earlier, could his comment really be deemed that? Then he had thought that it had brought forth unpleasant memories for her--memories that were obviously no longer a stumbling block for the Slayer despite the severity of them. His hunched shoulders signified the 'whipped dog' mentally he still held--waiting to be kicked and hit into submission until the next time he was needed to vent frustration. He had expected a million things and, despite Buffy's new demeanor and her promises of a 'gentler Buffy', her heartfelt thanks was not on that list. 

"You're welcome," he offered shyly and sat down next to her. His hands remained in his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them. 

They sat in an amicable silence for several minutes, appreciating the peaceful day as well as sneaking furtive glances at one another, though the stealth of said glances were quite unsuccessful. 

"Bloody hell," Spike huffed after catching her for the third or fourth time, "is one of us gonna get the stones to say something or are we gonna sit hear like a couple of bloody teenagers and admire the view."

"What's wrong with the view?" Buffy demanded petulantly. She then narrowed her gaze at Spike's cerulean orbs and, very deliberately, stated, "I happen to like the view." 

To say Spike blushed was akin to noting that the Sun was bright--gross understatement. Buffy smiled when she noticed the dimples that formed from his sheepish grin and she playfully nudged him with her shoulder. He wrenched his eyes from the sidewalk and gave Buffy a look that had her gasping. 

His eyes glistened from the Sun's rays, a blue pool of ecstasy, pain, and anger, hurt and, most of all love. It was a countenance similar to the one he adorned when she broke it off with him, though this particular time he did not house the immense pain that radiated from him that night. Buffy quickly busied herself with examining her fingernails, unsure of her voice after the inundation of emotions. 

Spike knew he hit a cord when he made eye contact with Buffy. It wasn't anything new, as he had known for quite sometime that she could rarely hold his gaze when he put all of what he felt into it. When he could, it was a fine weapon to use and it had weakened her already token resistance many a time, leading to hours of intense pleasure. Other times, however, it slipped through when it was the last thing he had wanted her to see. He remembered the crushed look she gave him when she called it off and he knew she had seen everything that was Spike in his eyes. If he hadn't been so hurt, the pity that carried in her voice would have been enough for him to give a hurtful retort As it was, he had just stood there, unbelieving that it was happening to him--again. 

__

You're not the only one with abandonment issues, luv, he mused. How many times had he been in love and had his heart torn asunder? _Perfect three-for-three, mate. Maybe if I beg pathetically enough, Buffy'll take advantage of a two-fer-one special. _

Buffy saw the dejection in Spike's eyes as his shoulders slumped and she couldn't help but wonder what painful thoughts were running rampant in the former Big Bad's mind. 

Her smile faded and she frowned at the defeated look Spike cast and Buffy automatically took his hand in hers and she felt him stiffen. Her eyebrows creased in confusion until she followed the direction of his eyes and she recoiled without thinking. 

__

Shit, she thought as she nervously fingered the ring Garrett had slipped on her finger four months ago, wishing that she could put off the inevitable. But it wasn't fair to Garrett or Spike for her to chicken out now--sooner or later the truth was bound to come forth. Now was as good a time as any. 

"Spike," she said hesitantly. "There are some…things that happened while you were gone. And I think it's about time I tell you about them."

***

The butterflies in my stomach are torn between holding patterns and strafing runs as I contemplate what to say next. But then again, I should be used to that, shouldn't I? I mean, Buffy and 'words caught in throat' are pretty much synonymous though I am also known for my Willow-like ability to babble; something I _so _do not wanna do. So I guess I'm stuck between saying too little and talking until he shoves a pipe down my throat to…I did not just think that! Tell me I did not just think that…

"Uh, luv?" He asks, breaking me from my pre-speech haze. He gives me that little smirk of his, though there is nothing mocking in it. Hey, a sincere smirk from Spike--never thought I'd see that. Okay, Buffy concentrate. 

"Yeah…huh?" Oh, very smooth. 

"So, are we gonna chat this out," he waves his hand between us, flashing another glance at the ring, "or are we gonna sit here in a not uncomfortable silence and admire the rest of the day?" 

"Well, I don't see you offering a topic of conversation," I retort and smile smugly at the silk feel of my defenses raising effortlessly. But that's bad--no Buffy defenses. Buffy defenses a no-no; it only leads to bad and hurtful remarks like…

"Last time I checked, pet, I wasn't the one engaged." Point. I want to respond with something sardonic but the kicked-Spike look plus a fresh helping of hurt and bitterness in his voice derails my comeback train. 

"Spike," I attempt to start the conversation again. 

"What? Think I wouldn't notice? Hell, I noticed the bloody thing when I first saw you. S'not like it's hard to miss, mind you, being roughly the size of sodding Arizona and all. I mean…" I silence him by placing two fingers over his lips, something that seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, the horse hooves sounding as my heartbeat beg to differ. The feel of his warm lips under my fingertips is quite weird considering I am so used to their cold feel.

"Are you going to let me talk or what?" I hold his gaze and feel like doing a dance when he breaks eye contact first. Point for Buffy--woo hoo!

"Sorry, luv," he has the dignity, no the _audacity _to look ashamed. Wow, still hard to get used to Spike all apologiz-y and stuff. 

"No, Spike; I'm the one that should be apologizing to you." He graces me with the "are you daft" look and I stifle a laugh. Still the same ol' Spike that I've come to know and…well, aren't I getting off topic. 

"Okay, why don't we do this. No apologies until I'm done." He responds with that boyish smile of his, and I can't help but return it--without the boyishness, of course. 

"When you left, so much changed so quickly. I told you some of it on the way from San Diego, but there was…a lot that I didn't share. I was waiting for the right time and, hey, no time like the present. 

"Well, after Willow was whisked away to some Wiccan coven in England, I took stock in a few things. I called it Buffy's gradual Epiphany." 

"'Gradual Epiphany', luv?" He doesn't even try to conceal his amusement. "Thought epiphanies were like bolts of lightning to the cerebellum." 

"Well, mine aren't, so…" I flick my tongue at him but quickly retract it as I catch him licking his own lips, which, of course, has the same effect on me and--we're in the park. Not that anything would happen if we weren't. God, Buffy, get it together. 

"Anyway, you're prolonging the…"

"Inevitable?" There is not trace of humor in his voice and my smile crashes onto the bench. This is going to be so damn hard. 

"Spike--I…I'm…" But he holds up his hand. 

"No sorries, remember?" I nod resolutely and inhale deeply, relishing in the scent of the coming summer, praying that it will give me the strength to get this all out. 

"You're right; no interruptions. Like I was saying, after Willow left, I had to take stock in a few things. The first was that the world is not black and white. Actually, I think I knew that awhile ago, but I just didn't wanna believe it. Ambiguity not a friend of a slayer let me tell you. Okay, stop with the looks, I know already--everything about life is pretty much in the gray, some things just have a darker--or lighter--shade. Am I right?"

"And why didn't you live by said philosophy earlier on in life?" His voice hints at teasing though the seriousness of his eyes clues me in on how to answer. 

"Truthfully? Because it…complicates things. Back then, I wasn't much one with the complex issues of morality. It was a very clear line between humans and demons for me. Left little to contemplation and everything else to my fists. It was easier, I'll tell you that, but I know that's not how life is. Life's all about the ambiguities--I know that now. Hell, I should've bought that clue when Angel went Postal but, of course, I chalked it up as a fluke or something. Anyway, Warren showed me what humans were truly capable of and," I stare at him pointedly, hoping he gets what I'm about to say next, "I also realized what some demons were capable of, despite their nature." His expression doesn't change and I can't help but feel dejected, yet I truck on. 

"Well, after a few minor adjustments in the Buffy-POV, I tried to focus my attention more on Dawn. Like I said, when we were trapped in that grave, she fought so well. You would have been proud of her."

"I'm always proud of the 'Bit," he says with complete sincerity though the huskiness in his voice lets me know that he is still hurting big-time from Dawn's less than thrilling reaction to him. But we can talk about that later. Right now I want to tell him about me--and this ring. 

"Yeah. Well, of course, after we got home and settled, guess who's bugging me twenty-four seven about training her? Well, after what I saw, I only put up token resistance, though when it came time for her to want to patrol, Buffy threw quite a hissy fit. But I'll save that for later. 

"Well, about that time--it was about a week after…you left--I quit the Doublemeat Hellhole. I just couldn't take it anymore. And don't get a big head about this," I wag my finger at him, "but you were right about that place. Killing me, I mean. It was like every second I was in there, a part of me whittled away, and I had to fight like hell to get all those missing pieces back." No way am I gonna tell him that there are still a few pieces missing from the jigsaw that is me because I really don't know what it is exactly that I am missing. 

"Anyway, the next day I started the job search and by Friday of the next week I was gainfully employed at Sunnydale Savings & Loan. Considering my skill set, I was really lucky to be hired on especially since Old Navy was my other choice."

"Seems to me that the clothing gig would have fit you to a tee, luv," he interjects, a wry grin plastering his face. 

"Uh, well, Spikey dear," I give him the same sarcastic voice that he always gives me, "since I am trying to save money, it wouldn't have been in my best interests to work in such a tempting environment." My smugness disappears when I see him smirk and open his mouth for a rejoinder obviously littered with innuendo. 

"Anyway," I say a little too loudly but he gets the point yet his smirk remains firmly in place. "Like I said, Sunny D's S&L was a perfect fit. I had a set schedule that I could tweak if need be and the pay was quite the upgrade from the Meat Factory."

"The people there were pretty good to me from the start, especially my trainer. His name was--is--Garrett. Garrett Morgan." I pause, unsure of how much to tell him about me and Gare, and he takes notice, stroking my shoulder affectionately, encouraging me to continue. 

I ignore the chill that scampers up my spine at his touch and resume my diatribe. "Well, it took him about a week of throwing out hints before he asked me out. I politely declined although I did kinda like him. Not like that," I cover when I see the hints of a deep scowl start to appear across the face of my former lover, "well, not then at least," I add quietly. I so don't want to hurt Spike, especially considering how much I had done it in the past. But at the same time, I can't just sugar coat everything or I'll never get through to the truth. And the truth is what Spike deserves. 

Even if I have no freakin' clue about what truth I'm aiming for. 

"It took me over a month to finally agree to go out with him and that was in no small part to Dawn's incessant whining of me getting a life." I think back to the picture I saw in his office--the one of Dawnie and me on our picnic. "The day you were here, taking the picture of me and Dawn, was the day I finally gave in to her bugging me." It was the day I felt things change and I just knew that Spike was dead and I can't help but to wonder if that, and not Dawn's persistence, was the reason I accepted Garrett's offer to go out. 

I shake my head, erasing the thought from my head in fear of what else my filter into my already overloaded cranium. "Needless to say, the first date was not what I would call a success. I was in a bitchy mood…"

"You didn't beat him up did you?" Spike asks, and despite his good-natured jibe, the comment still hurts me a little. I guess he sees it because he mutters an apology and looks away for a few seconds before turning back to me. 

"To answer your question, smart-ass," I quip, hoping to mask the hurt and I think I do a good job, "I didn't beat him. It was just one of those non-talkative days for me. He didn't help it, either, being all nervous and stuff."

"Do you think--" Spike begins nervously.

"Do I think what?"

"Do you…do you think that had anything to do with me--thinking I was dead, I mean?" He finished hesitantly and I can hear the remorse in his voice but that's not all. Call me crazy, but it's almost as if I sense the barest sliver of hope underneath it all. 

Choosing to ignore it for now, I answer him honestly. "I don't know." Okay, so I'm not being honest--with him or myself. I know I told him I changed but I also reminded him that there's that residual sliver of 'denial Buffy' just hanging around. I really have to get rid of it, especially if I want to erase even a fraction of the hurt that still lies between Spike and I. 

I bite my bottom lip when I see his crestfallen appearance. Guess he was hoping I would say yes--kinda morbid but, then again, I can see where he's coming from. All he wants--all he's ever wanted, is to be cared for and to have someone look at him in a way other than disdain. Really can't say I blame him, though. It's only human to desire acceptance and Spike is human... 

My eyes bulge at my choice of words and I vaguely notice Spike's concern though I do nothing to acknowledge it. _It's only human to desire acceptance, _I repeat to myself trying to grasp the reality of it. No matter how sorry I have been these last two years for my past behavior against Spike, I don't think I have ever seen him as anything other than a special vampire. I understand that everything is not black and white, but are the shades of gray _that _dark? Shit, I need a drink. 

I stand suddenly and Spike follows suit and it's a definite that he senses my nervousness. Thankfully, he doesn't pressure me; he just cocks his head to the side before asking, "Fancy another walk, luv?" I smile gratefully and nod. He bows gracefully and waves his hand away from us. "Always after you, madam." 

"Theatrical much?" I roll my eyes though his grandiose gesture has me fighting like mad to contain the smile about to break free. Damn it, too late. 

I snort at his pleased expression before walking off. Of course, I can't let him think he's won that easily. I stop suddenly and languidly run my hands down my hips and toss my hair to the side, throwing over my shoulder, "And you may wanna keep your eyes from being glued to my butt like you were before," and I walk off. 

I stifle a giggle when I hear an all too familiar grunt and his soft footfalls as he catches up with me. Out the corner of my eye, I notice his hands are buried deeply in the pockets of his khakis while his attention is focused straight ahead. I almost laugh aloud when I see the embarrassed tinge his skin has taken on but I keep my amusement to myself. 

The brush of our arms sends another tingle across my flesh, and I rue the day that this indescribable feeling goes away. I mean, it would make things so much easier, but at the same time, I don't think simple and easy really agree with me. 

I absently fiddle with the ring on my finger and think of how close I am to realizing my dreams for a normal life. But an all too big part of me, hidden in the shadows, is whispering--whispering softly about how normal isn't for me and never will be. 

For the umpteenth time in two days, I brush the thought away and concentrate on telling Spike the rest about Garrett. Maybe, just maybe, if I concentrate on words and not my emotions, I can get through this. 

_But you know your words cut Spike more than your fists ever did. _I want to scream at the resigned truth of my thought but think better of it, considering Spike may think I'm a nut. 

I curse at the empty feeling that washes over me. I know that, no matter how easy I go on him, Spike is going to be hurt with what I have to say but it can't be helped. If only I was the old Buffy, I really would ignore the stab of guilt that always came over me when I hurt him, purposely or otherwise. Yeah, it'd be so much easier but it's not going to be that easy. 

Because deep down, and on the surface, hurting Spike again is the last thing that I want to do. 

***

The couple walked around the park for the better part of an hour, making small talk and admiring the beautiful day as they had on the walk over to the park. The companionship they shared was comfortable to say the least yet in the back of their minds, both knew that they could only prolong the inevitable and that Buffy would have to finish the rest of her tale soon. 

When Buffy finally garnered the resolve to continue, she narrated the rest of the events of her personal involvement with Garrett with an almost detached voice. 

After the first disaster date, she had shied away from Garrett at work, only passing pleasantries along when it was necessary and feeling awkward whenever they were alone for more than a minute. Despite her aloofness, Garrett continued in his attempts to reach Buffy. He had tried his best to get it through his head that they would never be more than friends but following that notion was easier said then done. From the first day, he had felt an almost supernatural pull toward her and he dared not to deny it. He had refused to be defeated by Buffy's seemingly indifferent attitude toward him and maintained his cheerful exuberance toward her despite the constant lurch in his stomach at the jagged rift growing between them. 

"Then one day," Buffy said, the memories as fresh as they had happened merely hours ago. "He just kinda snapped. I was on lunch at the Expresso Pump and he was coming from the store next door--it was his off day. So he tried to start a conversation and I was really nasty to him. Not 'I hate you' nasty, but overly sarcastic. Well, after I said something completely out of line, he really turned the tables on me. 

"He told me how cozy it must feel hiding behind that--and I quote--'nice little shell of yours where nothing is ever your fault and you're always the victim.'" Spike snorted in agreement though Buffy chose to ignore it. 

"Well, you could probably guess that I didn't take that too well and struck back at him about running away from things." Buffy had told Spike earlier of Garrett's migration from San Francisco because he couldn't be in the same city where his girlfriend disappeared. "I think that was the first time I had seen him mad…no, he wasn't mad: he was pissed." Buffy laughed uneasily at the memory of Garrett's pain-filled eyes when her words cut into him. She had immediately regretted what she had said but didn't know what to do to rectify it. 

Though the tears had clawed and swan in his light gray eyes, Garrett had held them at bay. Contrary to the anger and pain that coursed through him, his voice had been eerily calm when he had told Buffy "If anyone is running, it's the guy that was here before me. That's the only excuse for how you act around me, or even when other guys approach you. And to think, I thought that a guy would be out of his mind to leave you but if you treat everyone like you've done me, I really don't blame him for leaving…"

The unease in Spike's gut continued to spread after every word Buffy spook, but her words concerning what Garrett had said to her riled him visibly and he growled instinctively. 

"Spike," Buffy said softly and touched his arm. Her hand vibrated from the tension in his muscles and she squeezed his taut bicep firmly, imploring him to look at her by force of will alone. 

"The wanker had no right to say that to you," he managed through clinched teeth, his nails biting into his palms as he fought to reign in his overwhelming urge to find this Garrett and pummel him into oblivion. 

"You're wrong, Spike," Buffy replied and was relieved when he trained his gaze on her. 

"I'm wrong? How do you figure? What that bloody pillock said…"

"Was right on the money and you know it. After I came back I was not a very good person. It's not that I was a bitch to everyone. Just the ones I cared about. Kind of ironic, isn't it? Being nice and friendly to strangers but cold and on the defensive with those closest to me. I'm not saying that I did that to everyone, all the time, but when someone was trying to show me how much they cared, I was the big-pusher off-er, not wanting people to get too close. It did get better, thanks to you," she poured her gratitude into her gaze, hoping that Spike would receive the message. 

"But, even if I had improved after I climbed out of that grave with Dawn, there were still things that I was slow on the uptake with and Garrett's words rang a lot truer than I was ready for. You know I broke down right there and Garrett just held me. It was just like one of my walls just crumbled and I was no longer hiding behind anything. I let him in that day and it wasn't long before we were together. That's not to say that there weren't times when I reverted back to the old Buffster--hell, even now I sometimes do that--but Gare never let me do the pity thing anymore. And the things that opened up to me, emotionally, were amazing. Even my slaying got better, and I think I finally accepted it. That's not to say that I enjoy it all the time, but I understand that slaying's a part of me and being that, I am just one of the many shades of gray that this world is colored in. My purpose may be of the light but my powers are still cloaked in the darkness--you were right about that but you were wrong about me belonging in the darkness." Though Buffy said this with no malice, Spike still felt a prickle of guilt remembering his harsh words to her in the Bronze the night in question. 

Lost in her own memories, Buffy was unaware of Spike's malaise, thus continued her explanation. "Things progressed pretty fast between us in those few months and we were always together. Everyone liked him except maybe Xander. I think it was because Garrett took up my time and that he started patrolling with me." On Spike's look she said, "I know, I know. But I guess when I told him all of that he couldn't resist being at my side. Of course, he made sure that I knew that he wasn't trying to protect me but the innocent people around him. To be honest, he really can take care of himself, at least as well as Riley in his Initiative days. But anyway, everything fell into place and we were going great. Then four months ago, he asked me…"

Spike's two-year-old heart constricted at the words that followed, and it took all his willpower not to cry out in agony. He had already surmised that actually hearing Buffy tell him she was engaged was much worse than seeing the ring on her finger and he didn't think he could deal anymore. At least not now. 

"And then, about two months ago…" but she was interrupted by Spike's hand on her shoulder. 

"Buffy, I can't," he whispered on shaky breaths. 

"Wha…"

"I can't do this now?"

"Do what Spike?" 

"This!" He spat and waved violently between them. 

"What? You don't want to--what? --Be around me?" Her anger was beginning to simmer though it was held in check by her hurt feelings. She knew it was going to be tough for him, but if she was sure about one thing in her complex life, it was that she wanted Spike in it in one way or another. 

Spike snorted in derision. _Leave it to bloody Buffy to think it's all her again. _Staring at the sky, he didn't see the hazel flash of her eyes or how she thrust her hands against her hips. 

"What?" she demanded and the anger was clearly above the hurt. "Are you trying to say this isn't about me? That I'm just doing the whole self-pity thing?"

Spike's frustration reached its zenith but as quickly as it had risen, it all dissipated. He lowered his eyes and ran shaky fingers through his hair. "Buffy…" he began but was quickly interrupted. 

"Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I enjoy telling you all this knowing that it's going to hurt you? Well, believe it or not _William, _but hurting you is the last thing I want to do--the last thing I _ever _want to do," she yelled as an unbidden tear streaked down her face. 

Spike opened his arms to her and Buffy took the invite. She leaned into him, her ear picking up the staccato beat of his heart as she was comforted by his familiar scent though she had yet to get used to his undeniable warmth. The arms encircling her now, though mortal, held every bit of strength that she remembered from their times together and she welcomed it. 

She did not want to talk about depressing things anymore though she knew there were still things he needed to hear, to understand. Of course, she wasn't sure he would understand, considering that she didn't get it herself. All she knew was that as difficult as it all appeared to be now, life was only going to get more complicated. 

Reading her thoughts like he always had, Spike gently pushed Buffy away by the shoulders and stared at her with all the love and understanding he could muster. He saw relief flood her eyes at the lack of expectation in his blue swirls. 

"Let's not talk about this now," he graced her with a warm smile. "I'm not goin' anywhere, luv, so there'll be plenty of time to chat the rest of this out later."

"Thank you," Buffy said gratefully and allowed her former lover to lead her out of the park. As she listened to his playful banter, she was thankful to him for the reprieve but she really didn't know how to express it to him. And it was in that moment that Buffy knew. 

She loved him. 

But what she didn't know was what shape her love was took. Was it as a friend or…more? Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she concentrated on the now and would worry about what she felt later. After all, he wasn't going anywhere. 

And neither was she. 

***Well, I m finally done, two days behind schedule. I've noticed that my conversations are starting to go where they want to go. I won't say what happens in the next chapter but in the next two or three, I will finally introduce Garrett and Spike will get Dawn alone. That will be an interesting conversation. 

***Part 7 will be out sometime this weekend. I have to start updating Family Ties during the week. 

***Please leave reviews chock full of comments and suggestions. 


	7. Part VII

Do What You Have to Do

Part VII

Buffy spent the remainder of the day re-acquainting Spike with the newer Sunnydale. After the park, they had decided to take a quick jaunt through the mall; a jaunt lasted two hours and by the end of the trip, both held two shopping bags worth of purchases. Buffy had been content to head home, but Spike wanted a broader tour of the new and improved town. He had convinced a begrudging slayer to give him said tour without benefit of transportation. Thus they had ambled their way through the town and its outskirts, bogged down with bags for _another_ two hours. Though in supernatural shape, both were thankful for the stiff winds and cloud cover that permeated the day.

Spike had been floored at the changes that had taken place outside of the downtown area. Their first stop had been Spike's former stomping grounds, the warehouse district. Those warehouses had been transformed into to several upscale condominium complexes. Spike made a mental note to call the realtor of the condos later, as they put him in mind of his penthouse in San Diego. 

The used-to-be run down docks were in the process of renovation as well, not to mention the motels and other establishments, according to Buffy. It was pretty clear that Sunnydale was in its own little renaissance. 

"Bloody hell," he muttered as they made their way back to Revello drive, "a bloke fancies a little sojourn for two years and what's he come back to? Bloody Stepford Farms, that's what." 

Buffy laughed at Spike's childish disbelief at the new look Sunnydale. His blue eyes swam with wonder at every stop they had made and he had bombarded her with question after question. It was a side of him Buffy had rarely seen and she reveled in it. 

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, waving her hand in the air. "That's what we were like when they started up the rebuilding. I mean, I know I've only been here six years, but Willow and Xander have lived here their whole lives and they couldn't remember something actually being renovated. For those first few months, we thought it was the new mayor and another hidden agenda. But Xander finally assured us that it was nothing but the beautiful initiation of progress. Can't say that this town didn't need it."

"I don't know," Spike drawled, "I kinda liked that warehouse. It had a particular…style about it."

Buffy rolled her eyes as they turned the corner and were now on Revello drive. "Yeah, if you really think that…" Buffy never finished the sentence as she saw the sun's rays gleam off the finish of a familiar black BMW parked in her driveway.

"Buffy," Spike inquired when the slayer froze in place. She looked like she had been punched in the gut, her mouth agape and eyes bulging. Spike called her again and, before she shook off the haze that coiled around her senses, he followed her eyes and noted the foreign vehicle parked in the drive. 

"Expectin' company, luv?" Spike asked and the sarcasm was not lost on her. 

"Not really," she replied curtly, her legs stiffly propelling her forward. 

Spike watched Buffy walk ahead and closed his eyes tightly. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know about the owner of the Beamer. It was that prat she was on the phone with earlier, the same one whose ring she wore. At the mere thought of the ring, Spike growled menacingly, his grip tightening around the bags he held in each hand. Though he had been human--or as close as he could get--for roughly two years now, the territoriality and possessive instinct of the vampire still resided within his bones. His lips barely moved as he whispered what should have been calming words to himself. Though he was not as impulsive as he once was, Spike had no inclinations in hiding the truth that if he were in the same room with this bloke at this moment, he'd rip him limb from limb. 

Buffy had taken four steps when she registered the tingling at the back of her neck. _Can't be a vampire¸_ she thought, confused. She surveyed her surroundings, making sure that there were no places for vamps to hide in the six o'clock sun. After a visual surveillance of the area, her eyes fell on Spike's rigid form behind her, standing perfectly still, his eyes closed. She sighed tiredly before walking back towards him. 

"Spike," she called and reached out to touch him but immediately pulled her hand away. The hostility resonating from him had risen to an intensity she hadn't remembered since…well, since he had been her ally against Angelus. Even through the years after, when they were both mortal enemies and comrades, she had never felt him this tense. She understood why it had been that way with Angelus. He had taken Spike's lover and sire from him, stripping the younger vampire of his only anchor while he had been in the wheelchair. To Buffy, it was understandable. Hell, if someone had moved in on her man she…That's when it hit her. 

Buffy groaned audibly at the realization of it all. Spike knew Garrett was there and he was none too happy about that. To be honest, neither was she. Buffy had told Garrett ever since their tentative--hiatus--to call before he stopped by. She was kinda peeved by it, though curious at the same time since Garrett had respected every one of her wishes. 

_Not that he should, _she thought sullenly. _Not the way I've been acting the past two months. _But as interested as she was in his unexpected arrival, Buffy first had to diffuse the ticking time bomb--no, _nuclear _holocaust--begging for release from the core of her ex-lover. 

"Spike," she called again, punctuating it by firmly gripping Spike's forearm. Finally hearing the distant voice become nearer, Spike slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly into the eyes of the slayer. "You with me?" She asked and, despite his mood, he debated whether or not to answer that with a 'do you want me to be?' but wisely thought against it, noticing the hard line of her lips. No, it wouldn't do good to push her over the edge of exasperation she was already teetering on. Two years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated in calling her out, raising her ire to levels only he knew about until they would ultimately be locked in fisticuffs. But that was then; if his soul presented him with one thing, that was tact. 

"Spike," she squeezed his arm, hard. 

"Bloody hell, woman," he bellowed and yanked his arm away. "You'd do good to remember I have a pulse now, ergo, circulation." 

"I know that," she returned sharply, "but considering that said blood has filtered up to that cranium of yours, I didn't think you'd miss the lack of blood flow."

_Tact, _Spike reminded himself as his jaw popped as he ground his teeth together. "What the bloody hell are you talkin' about?" He forced through clinched teeth and silently applauded himself for the calm that floated around his words. 

Buffy's head flew back in annoyance and she let out a decidedly unfeminine growl. Spike couldn't help but be entranced by the soft curve of her neck and how slight bead of sweat trickled down the side of it. He craned his head to get a better view, his eyes roaming across the luscious planes of her body. The way her shirt clung to her pert breasts or how her Capri's highlighted her hips. He felt the call of desire creep into his lower abdomen and he began having difficulty swallowing. 

Shaking her head, Buffy's gaze returned to Spike. A very enthralled Spike, by the looks of it. Buffy furrowed her eyebrows before her eyes locked with his and she realized what he was doing. 

_He's checking me out! Right in front of me, and he's not trying to play it off. _Her thoughts meshed in torrents as she was torn about the discovery. Her first reaction--embarrassment--was obviously clear as her cheeks flamed red though her other feelings weren't quite as visible. She knew she should be pissed at Spike's blatant leering, and she was, but the other half of her was quite turned on by the Brit's out and out ogling. Of course, that last part wasn't quite appropriate since they were right down the street from her house and her…and Garrett. 

Buffy's increasing arousal was stalled by the reaffirmation of her current position. Taking a deep breath, the slayer steeled her resolve and fixed Spike with a no-nonsense glare. 

"Look Spike, as much as I'm enjoying your visual undressing of me," she motioned towards the house, " there is somewhere we should be." 

Spike's head shot up at Buffy's words. He bit down on his lower lip sheepishly, though his eyes held a hint of defiance. He thought about replying with one of his trademark barbs but the slight panic in her eyes caused him to hold his tongue. His rigid posture slackened at her silent pleading and he nodded in the direction of the Summers home. 

"After you, luv," he said, readjusting his grip on the bags while he waited for her to lead the way. 

"Right, okay," Buffy forced out, not quite expecting Spike's placating tone. _He just doesn't stop with the surprises, does he? _Buffy shook her head and stalked slowly back to the house where things were definitely about to get interesting. 

Spike followed a step behind the slayer and he couldn't help but smile wistfully. He doubted Buffy had even noticed, but the corners of her mouth had turned upwards at his last comment and though he had no idea what it meant, he couldn't get the thought out of his head that she really wanted him. 

_Well, mate--looks like you get to meet the guy who won her heart. _Subconsciously, though his words and thoughts earlier said quite the opposite, the former vampire was determined to win Buffy back no matter who awaited them inside. 

***

Garrett sat in the middle of the Summers living room couch, rubbing his damp palms against the outside of his dress slacks. Though the top two buttons were undone and his tie loosened considerably, the tightness around his throat would not go away. 

_What do I have to be nervous about? _He asked himself, though the answer to that had already formulated in his mind. This was the first time in over a week that he had been here and only the fourth time this month. Not to mention the fact that Buffy had absolutely no idea that he was here. 

Garrett tapped his foot nervously and glanced at his watch. "Shit," he muttered noticing the time. He had already been here twenty minutes and that was fifteen minutes longer than expected. He stood impatiently, the only sound in the room was his ragged breaths and the slight pop of his right knee. His shoes clicked against the hardwood floor and he ran a shaky hand over his close-cropped hair. 

"Dawn," he called and noted the unsteadiness of his voice. He called her again, his voice battling his own uneasiness and the louder than loud ministrations of an eighteen year old's stereo system spitting out the snazzy beats of the current N'Sync. 

"Yeah," came the response over the lowered volume of the music. 

"I thought you said this was only gonna take five minutes." 

"Five more minutes," she informed the nervous man at the bottom of the steps as she poked her head around the corner of the hallway. 

"Dawn…" 

"Look, Gare," she interrupted. "Why are you so nervous? It's not like you guys are in the 'awkward ex' phase of your relationship or anything. I mean, you guys are still engaged, right?"

"In theory," he muttered to himself before re-addressing Dawn, "it doesn't matter. You know I don't like being here when she doesn't invite me. I think it's better if we high-tail it outta here before she gets back," _especially if…_

"It's because of Spike, right?" the teen asked and now stood directly at the top of the steps. She shook her head derisively when Garrett lowered his eyes. "Don't worry about him, Garrett. His ass will be gone before you know it. I mean, once she tells him about you, there's no reason for him to stick around." Though he didn't reply, Garrett heard the hurt and bitterness in Dawn's voice as she spat out her last words. 

"If it's all the same to you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'd like to be out before she gets back. Better yet, I'm gonna go wait outside, maybe have a smoke." 

Dawn smiled wryly, her hands resting on her hips. "Garrett, you don't smoke." He chuckled lightly at her statement before looking back up at her. 

"Yeah, well--maybe I just started." 

The former key snorted before turning on her heels, heading back to her room. Before she walked away, the upcoming graduate tossed over her shoulder, "I wouldn't be surprised, with you dealing with Buffy all the time." 

Garrett shook his head in laughter and turned to walk out the door. He turned the handle before whispering his assent to her last words, "Don't I know it," before opening the door. 

_Of course, _he thought sarcastically as his eyes locked on the two people in front of him before the hammering of his heart drowned out all possibilities of coherent thought. 

"Hey Buffy," he said weakly, averting her emerald gaze. 

"Hey Garrett," she returned and smiled tightly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. 

"Sorry for coming without calling," he apologized, stealing a glance at the rigid figure staring him down behind Buffy, "but Dawn stopped by the bank when I was getting off and asked me for a ride. I'm taking her over to Monique's house but we're going to pick up Janice first. I was about to sit outside and wait for her," he babbled, all the while rubbing his palms together. 

"It's okay," she assured. Buffy stood there, between two men she cared deeply about, unsure of what to do next. Fortunately the light haired man behind her made that decision. 

"Uh, as much as I am touched by the awkwardness of this hallmark moment, luv, it'd be a tad nicer inside the comfortable confines of casa de Summers." 

Buffy clicked her tongue and turned towards Spike, flashing him a very unhappy look and the he mentally cursed himself for the open hostility he knew she had picked up in his voice. 

"Oh," Garrett said and moved aside, "wasn't really thinking." Buffy smiled as she walked past and into the living room. Spike grunted his acknowledgment of Garrett when the other man muttered, "besides, I was waiting for Mr. Sunshine here to snap a picture…" He smiled tightly before closing the door and brushing past Spike. 

Spike only smirked at the retreating man, thinking to himself that he just might like this guy after all. 

"Course he's gotta die," he whispered to himself, "no doubt about that." Shrugging his shoulders, the once immortal sauntered into the living room, forcing himself to relax. If anything, he refused to let his jealousy show. _This isn't Angelus, mate. Just some low-level blighter who just so happens to be the fiancé of the love of my life. I can handle it. _

I hope. 

***

I lay my bags beside Buffy's next to the table and take a seat in the recliner. I would have sat on the couch with Buffy but someone beat me to it already. It brasses me off a bit but the ample space between them as they are sitting on the far ends of the couch calms my ire. 

I slouch in the chair, further than usual, forcing the confidence and swagger of one hundred years to practically bleed through my veins. We all sit quietly, eyes drifting around the room, waiting for someone to break the silence. I feature a glance towards Buffy and notice that she's wringing her hands together and biting her lip. Yeah, she's about as nervous as a sheep in a room full of wolves. Course, there's no bloody wolves around here--unless you count me. Yeah, I know; I gotta soul, so I should be all-nice and accommodating, right? S'not how it works, mate. I may have gotten my old soul back, but a century of knowledge (and heartbreak) has a way of toughening up the newest occupant. 

I take the lull to size up my rival. 'S a handsome bloke, I'll give him that. Can tell he works out, though he's not overly big. Can tell by his bronze skin that he's carryin' more than one ethnic heritage in his blood, just not sure what that is. He's nervous too, constantly running his hand through his dark hair. Kinda hard to do, considering that said hair isn't quite 'of the long'. But to each his own. 

I sigh purposefully loud and two sets of eyes, one hazel and one grayish, flicker towards me before they drop to the floor again.

"Pardon me for interrupting this oh so engaging conversation," I say, "but are we gonna go with the formal introductions any time soon?" Buffy cuts me with one of her patented 'God, Spike--asshole much?' stares and I smile condescendingly at her. Just because we've both changed in earnest doesn't mean that we can't indulge ourselves from time to time. 

She turns herself to Garrett, her face marred with--well, truly can't discern the look on her face, but it's there no less. She steals another glance my way before doing the introductions. "Garrett, this is Sp--William. William, this is…Garrett." I see the git's face nosedive a bit at the reserved introduction. Must be trouble in paradise. I really wish I could feel bad about that but…well, hell, I'm so in love with her it kills me. No way in hell I'm gonna feel bad about any chance I get of wooing her…God, no. Tell me I just didn't say 'woo'. Bloody Peaches, ingrained his poof-dom so far in my cerebellum, don't think I'll ever be the man I used to be. 

'Course, really can't say that I mind that last tidbit. 

"William," the ponce nods curtly my way and I solicit him with a mock salute. 

"Garrett. Wish I could say it's…" nice to meet you I was gonna say but I reckon that intense pressure in my chest where Buffy's eyes are boring into me shuts my gob. "It's nice to meet you," I plaster the most insincere smile possible on my face and meet his equally fake grin. 

"Nice to meet you too, Spike," he says and apologizes. Git did it on purpose. I know it, he knows it and, from the evil look she's shooting both of us, Buffy knows it. She's right pissed, it's just radiating off of her--God, she looks beautiful when she's mad--and we both take that as a sign to close our bloody mouths. 

"Dawn upstairs?" She asks and stands. I catch Garrett's eyes flash to the slayer's arse before he looks up to her. Thought I didn't catch that, huh? You'll soon learn, boy, I catch everything. 

"Yeah," he chuckles and I see him relax visibly at the question obviously not directed at his reasons for being here. "Said she was gonna be only five minutes."

"Let me guess--it's been, what?--at least fifteen," I offer and fondly. "Just like the Bit. Always kept me waiting last summer when you were--" I close my eyes, still unable to get past the pain of seeing her broken body. I can feel her looking at me, empathy seeping from her and even the git knows something happened. 

"When I was overseas," she offers and grants me a warm smile. Guess she hadn't told him everything after all. Yet another tidbit of info to check out. 

"Well, I'm gonna check and see what's taking her so long." I watch her hips sway as she exits the room. I turn my head towards the git before her voice wafts back into the room. 

"And guys? Don't make me have to kill both of you." With that, she's gone and only the light patter of her feet echoes down the steps. 

So here we are, two guys in love with the same woman, sitting across from each other with no parental supervision. This is gonna be interesting. 

"So," he asks casually, "how's the human thing treating you?" I smile wickedly at him and he returns my gaze without hesitation. 

Yeah, this is gonna be very bloody interesting. 

***

"Dawn?" Buffy called, knocking on her sister's door. She waited patiently until she heard the distinct increase in volume and then opened the door. The lithe figure of her sister was spread out on the bed, her feet tapping noiselessly to the upbeat rhythm blaring from her speakers. Her overnight bag was packed at the foot of her bed, all set to go. When she saw that she had a visitor, Dawn jumped up, and turned off her stereo. 

"It's called knocking," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"Yeah, tried that. But your immersion into the finer genres of modern music obviously had you preoccupied." Buffy leaned against the doorjamb while Dawn hastily put on her shoes. 

"Okay," the teen asked, absently running a comb through her hair. "Now you've got my attention, care to tell me why you're up here?" Buffy winced slightly at her younger sister's callous tone. It had been so long since she had faced Dawn's cool indifference that Buffy wasn't quite prepared for it. 

"Uh, well…Garrett's waiting for you." She cursed herself at the lack of strength in her voice but ignored the urge to add a biting comment to make her sound more confident. 

"I know," Dawn said before turning cold eyes towards Buffy, "is _he _down there." On Buffy's guilty look, Dawn snorted loudly. "Oh, of course he is. I mean, why wouldn't he be, what with the nice, little leash around his neck that happens to be attached to your waist."

"Dawn," Buffy warned but the brunette continued her rant. 

"I wonder if he even has a will of his own. First he let Dru yank his chain for- what? - a hundred years and then you. I mean, a vampire in love with a slayer…"

"He's not a vampire anymore, Dawn," Buffy saw her sister's eyes falter, the steel glint of resentment gone for the moment. 

"Buffy? How?" 

"Long story that's his to tell." 

The disdain was back in Dawn's eyes and she folded her arms protectively across her chest. "Doesn't matter. Just because the outside's changed doesn't mean that he still doesn't have that same bitter taste on the inside." 

"Dawn," Buffy's tone was deep and warning as she strode purposefully over to her defiant sister. "What is wrong with you?" She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes locked in a stare down with the youngest Summers. Buffy waited several seconds until Dawn, giving up, rolled her eyes and walked towards the door. The slayer quickly grabbed her sister's arm in a firm grip. 

"Hey," Dawn protested, trying to dislodge her arm from Buffy's tenuous grip to no avail. "Let go."

"Not until you answer my question. What is going on with you? Why are you being like this?"

"Being like what?" The former key questioned, though she dropped her eyes. 

"Like this," the slayer responded, waving her hand between them. "So cold and unfeeling. This isn't you, Dawn," Buffy's tone softened a bit, "Talk to me, sweetie. You know you can." 

Buffy saw the indecision in her sister's eyes and gently ushered her to sit on the bed. The tension boiled off of Dawn's skin and her eyes swam angrily with unwanted moisture. Buffy said nothing, only offering her support with an easy smile and stroking Dawn's hair lightly. She already knew what the problem was but, if Dawn was remotely like she had been, Buffy knew that her sister was going to have to make the conclusions on her own. 

"Why is he here?" Dawn's soft voice broke the strained silence. 

"Who? Spike?" Buffy knew that's who she was talking about, but wanted Dawn to say it herself. 

"Yeah, Spike. Why is he here?" 

"Because, I went to get him. I told you that a few weeks ago that I might…"

"That you _might, _Buffy. God, I didn't think you were serious. How could you? How could you bring him back and not tell me? Hell, how could you even stand the sight of him?" Dawn's hands clenched and unclenched in her lap instinctively and the muscles in her jaw pulsed like a heartbeat. 

"It's complicated, Dawnie," On the teen's disbelieving snort, Buffy continued, "I'm not even sure if I know why. I mean, yeah, I do know that I needed to see him; that I couldn't leave things how they were. I know I needed to forgive him and the only way to do that was to confront him about it." 

"But _why, _Buffy? Why forgive him? How could you? After what he did." The disbelief and genuine concern in her voice almost masked the disdain she still carried for Spike. Almost. 

"Dawn, something that you don't understand--and I still am coming to terms with--is that Spike wasn't the bad guy in what happened. Yeah, he did an unthinkable and horrible thing, but not unforgivable."

"But how could you say that? He tried to rape you, Buffy. How could you possibly forgive that?" 

Buffy closed her eyes at that, unsure how to answer. Oh, she knew the words she should say but knowing and saying were two entirely different things. She had told Dawn some of the horrible things she had said to Spike but none of the things she had done. She didn't want her baby sister to look at her any weirder than Dawn already did but, at the same, Buffy didn't want this obvious coldness that Dawn had against Spike to continue. _Give it up, Buffy. You owe him that much, _the slayer told herself. 

"Because," she replied and stared Dawn right in the eye, "he forgave me for the things I did to him." 

Dawn's eyes softened but she was not entirely convinced. "I know you said you did bad things to him--and that you were holding back on the details--but it wasn't as bad as what he tried to do to you." 

"You're right, Dawnie. It wasn't as bad. It was worse." 

***

Garrett checked his watch for the third time and noted that it had been only five minutes since Buffy had gone upstairs. He was hoping that Dawn would be back soon because, as much as he hated to admit it, the former vampire across from him unnerved him. It wasn't because the guy was a vampire, or former. Hell, he had been fighting the undead with Buffy and co. for almost a year--he had seen things much worse than vampires. But Spike was different. There was something about him, something primal and vicious, yet there was also an intelligence and cunning in his eyes that would have been disconcerting to the bank manager even if the title 'former vampire' did not apply. 

Spike, on the other hand, was enjoying Garrett's discomfort, though the man was doing an admirable job hiding it. Actually, as much as his ego craved it, Spike knew that he wasn't the only reason Garrett was jumpy. There was something between him and Buffy that she had neglected to tell Spike, and the Brit had an idea, albeit blatantly optimistic, of what the deal was. 

"So, how are you and Buffy doing?" Spike asked casually. He noticed Garrett's ever so slight flinch at the mention of Buffy's name though the man forcefully relaxed his posture. 

"Fine," he replied, lifting his chin slightly though Spike caught the briefest hesitation in his response. 

"Fine? Is that it? Woman wears a moon rock like that and things are only fine? Will wonders never cease--I'm actually wishing Captain Cardboard would make an appearance," Spike instantly felt bad as he saw the naked look of pain that crossed the man's face before he covered it. _Bloody soul, _he thought derisively though a part of him knew that the soul wasn't the only reason he felt empathy towards the man. It was the look, the same look he often felt after a particularly brutal dress-down by the slayer. If the man felt half as bad as Spike had, well--no, Spike wouldn't wish that kind of heartache on anyone. Not even Peaches. 

"So, Garrett," he said, changing the subject, "what do you do?"

The relief on the man's face was obvious and Spike congratulated himself for again considering someone else's feelings. _Course, this will **not **be habit forming. It bloody well better not be. _

***

Dawn listened in horror as Buffy explained her less than ideal relationship with Spike two years ago. When Buffy had told Dawn that her actions had been worse than Spike's deeds in the bathroom, Dawn had been understandably skeptical. Now, as Buffy wrapped up her tale, Dawn could do nothing but gape in astonishment, unsure of what to do or say. 

"So you see?" Buffy asked amidst the tears and patted Dawn's limp hands that rested in her lap. "That's why it wasn't too hard forgiving him. Because, as guilty as he was that night, it was my fault things got so out of hand in the first place." Buffy had told her almost everything except the most intimate details and, even now, she was debating whether or not to tell her. 

"But what he did…" Dawn replied but trailed off, her own tears making it difficult to continue. _Might as well tell her the rest, _Buffy decided. 

"I already told you, sweetie. There was no excuse for what he did that night. He was responsible for his own actions," even as she said it, Buffy winced. Holding Spike responsible for his own actions brought up painful memories of her first love and the things he had done when he had lost his soul. _Can't think about that right now. _

__

"Dawnie, you know more than anybody what Spike can be like when he's not trying to hide behind his Big Bad persona. He can be so thoughtful and attentive."

"Yeah," the younger Summers said, her voice distant from memories of a summer where hit had been her and Spike versus the world. Despite the circumstances, it had been the best summer she had ever had. He had really helped her begin to see what she was made of, the burgeoning young woman that was bound to appear. And now that young woman didn't know how to feel about the person who had hurt her more than anyone in her life without even lifting a finger or spewing a harsh word at her. 

But he had done something much worse than hard words or physical actions—he had betrayed her trust, utterly and completely. 

Doing what he did to Buffy was unthinkable. Not only did he do that, but he wasn't man enough to face her or Buffy afterwards. Dawn had always thought Spike was special, different, and all he had done was prove that he was just like all the others. 

"Dawn," Buffy's voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned toward her older sister. "I know that because…because he tried to be that way with me. You already know how I felt when I first came back, I've told you. It was too much, everybody wanting to be better when I didn't think I could, telling me to perk up. But Spike—he let me be. I didn't have to be cheerful or strong in front of him. He was the shoulder to lean on and the voice of reason as well. Sometimes he said things that I didn't want to hear, but I listened nonetheless. And when we finally got…together, he tried to be the same attentive and caring guy but whereas I accepted that during our nightly talks, I wouldn't—couldn't—accept it during our more intimate moments. When he was soft, I was hard. When he tried to be tender, I forced the roughness. Everything he did, I turned it around on him. All I wanted was to feel…and, to me, 'feel' only meant the physical but to him it meant so much more. I used his feelings and emotions against him for my own selfishness and that was just as bad, if not worse, than what he tried to do to me in the bathroom."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Dawn's eyes showing her conflicting emotions. Her reaction had been enough to tip Buffy that her words had had an effect on Dawn and that Dawn was no longer angry at Spike for his actions in the bathroom. Still, Buffy knew that Dawn was still hurt and angry at the one action that he was indeed successful at. 

Leaving. 

Buffy waited until Dawn was balanced enough to tell the teen what Buffy had told Spike earlier. She wanted to wait, but thought better of it, considering Summers' women's' propensity for their anger to multiply when issues weren't ironed out sooner than later. 

"Dawn," she began, her voice steady, "as much as I know he hurt you by what he tried to do to me, this isn't all about that, is it?"

"What do you mean?" Dawn answered a little to quickly and Buffy noted the defensive tone. 

"Don't get me wrong, I know that made you mad, especially not hearing it from me." That much was true as well, considering Dawn still hadn't forgiven Xander for telling her and even now she wasn't too warm towards him Of course, it was just another thing for Xander to hold against Spike. 

"What I mean is, that as much as that hurt you, something else hurt worse. Something you never would have thought he would do."

"I think almost raping my sister classifies under the heading of 'something I thought he would never do'." Buffy smiled, which made Dawn frown though the latter held her tongue. 

"I know that. Believe me, I know. But there is something else that has nothing to do with me, isn't it?"

"Like what?" she scoffed. 

"Like the fact that he did what Dad did. And me. Like the fact he did what Mom did," Buffy's throat constricted at the mention of their mother but she continued, sensing Dawn's mounting fear of the truth being discovered. 

"You're wrong," she spat and motioned to get up but Buffy's grabbed her wrist. 

"He was the only person that has always been there for you…"

"No! You're wrong," she yelled and struggled against her sister's iron grip to no avail. 

"The only person that never lied to you or treated you…"

"Stop! You don't know what you're talking about," she cried but Buffy continued.

"The only person that didn't treat you like a kid but still…"

"Stop it! Just stop it!"

"But still loved you like one…"

"Buffy…" Dawn's struggling was getting weaker and Buffy felt her shaking with emotion. 

"He was everything that we couldn't be…and he left." That was it. Once Buffy spoke those three words, Dawn collapsed to the floor in a heap of tears and sobs. Buffy, though tears were in her eyes, pulled Dawn's head to her lap and let her cry, all the while stroking her little sister's hair. 

She smiled sadly at the scene, one that reminded her of the last time she had seen her sister cry a year and a half ago. Though they had been so close even then, that had marked the beginning of Dawn's closure of hurtful emotions. She just hoped that now the opposite was true. All she wanted was for Dawn to be able to love and feel like she was now able to do. If her progress were any indication, it would take time. She just hoped, for Dawn's sake, that her progression went more smoothly than her own. And considering Dawn had realized that she had loved Spike while it had taken Buffy a handful of years, the slayer was confident that things were well on their way to being normal again. 

Well, as normal as could be with a slayer, a key and a former vampire. 

***Kinda hit a roadblock, that's why this one took longer. The next part will be a continuation of this, and, since I know what's going to happen, it won't take as long to write. 

***Hopefully, I will be able to post the next chapter of Family Ties II by Wednesday. It will be a short chapter (as far as my fics go) so I'm sure I won't have problems making that particular deadline. Well, let me know what you think. 


	8. Part VIII

***Sorry it took so long. Spike and Garrett talk a bit more and we get to see Dawn's reaction to seeing Spike again…

Part VIII

                "You know," Garrett's words curled through the silence. The two men had talked amicably for the last ten minutes with Spike telling Garrett about his life in San Diego while the latter man spoke of his travails in San Francisco and subsequent migration to Sunnydale. It was as if, for a handful of minutes, the two men had forgotten that they both loved the same woman. It was as if they were just two guys, chatting about, getting to know one another. There was no animosity, no jealousy or envy, no anger to get in the way of their words. For a short time, they could almost be considered 'friends'. 

                Spike glanced up as Garrett's mellow voice permeated the silence. He watched as the bronze-skinned man twirled a silver dollar across the knuckles of his agile fingers, grayish eyes transfixed on the tumbling currency. 

                "If you were still a vampire, I would have killed you, you know?"  Finally, Garrett spared him a glance and Spike detected no malice or anger in his eyes--just the resigned truth. "For what you did to her," he clarifies, quite unnecessarily since Spike knew the direction of his words. 

                Impressed by the absence of fear in the man's eyes or voice, Spike's face contorted into his trademark smirk and Garrett returned the gesture. 

                "You would've tried," he informed before inhaling deeply. The scent of lilac swam through the air, tumbling through him, filling the once un-dead vampire with a warmth he had not felt in a hundred and twenty years. Not since Dru had purged humanity from his veins, forever banished from the muted sensations of humanity, had Spike felt so completely at ease. Not since he had held his Cassandra, little girl that she was, in his lap, reading to her by the fire, had he felt even a sliver of acceptance. He remembered the luminescent shine of her blue eyes as he read to her. Cassandra. His baby sister, the only one who never laughed at his verses. The only one who ever loved him without preamble. The only one whose heart was his and his alone. 

                "You would've tried," he repeated, his words hollow, dead. _Like I used to be, he thought and a tired smiled etched his features. The lids shut on his cerulean orbs, enveloping him in the darkness that was his home for a dozen decades. A darkness that had bred a killer, a demon that possessed the passions of humanity, intertwined with the proclivities of a monster. A monster that fed off fear and suffering, pain and blood, superiority and dominance. A darkness that housed no room for remorse or regret. A darkness whose greatest purpose was to shield him from the consequences of his actions, laying waste to guilt, leaving room for only a shrug of his shoulders. But that darkness was gone now, obliterated by a simple phrasing of words, words that, in his mind, had meant one thing but something totally different in his heart. __Guess that's where old Lurky was lookin'. _

                Spike shook his head, willing away the images of the seemingly endless days and nights of torture that had been his trials. Though he had told Buffy something of them, proudly even, he didn't dare tell her of the worst ones—the 240 hours of reliving that moment in the bathroom, though with every passing hour, he had gotten closer to completing his assault. Halfway through the ten days, he had to watch, helplessly, as he took her over and over, her tears and blood mingling with his own fluids. Sometimes he ripped into her flesh with fangs, other times with blunt teeth, though never killing her, just adding to his own pleasure. It sickened him to watch (and feel his body) having her in every way. All the physical pains he had to endure were nothing compared to reliving that nightmare. He was surprised that his mind didn't shatter from guilt. Even now, he had nightmares about, sometimes during the day, her broken and bleeding body, ravaged by him, more vivid than any of the real images of people he had killed and he couldn't help but wonder whether or not he could do away with the guilt if he ever got to make love to her again… 

                "You there?" Garrett's voice slashed through the haze and Spike reeled himself from the bottomless pit of pain and anguish that had ensnared his waking thoughts. 

                "Yeah, mate," he said and sent a weary smile to the room's other occupant. Spike ran his tanned hands over his face and through his wispy brown locks, interlocking his fingers when his hands came to rest at the back of his neck. He expelled a shaky breath, the annoyance of being sucked into the familiar malaise of the past so quickly. But that was something he had lived with for the past two years and he doubted he would ever be rid of. 

                Garrett studied the man before him, somewhat confused of his own emotions. Never one to hate, Garrett had loathed the vampire Spike ever since Buffy had told him about Spike, though it had taken Xander to fill in the more--grimy--details. He had made a silent promise to Buffy to dust Spike if he ever showed up or, at the very least, tried. When Buffy had first told him of her intentions, Garrett had been incensed, though he had controlled himself admirably, resisting the urge to rant and rave, questioning her sanity (of course, the latter may have been his instinct for self-preservation but still…). He had listened and, in the end, despite her growing aloofness and desire to see the monster that had almost raped her, gave her his unconditional support. Still, he had wished for ten minutes alone with Spike so Garrett could punish him rightfully for his actions.

                Now, as that same man--yes, man--sat not ten feet from him, Garrett could do nothing but feel a strange sort of kinship with Spike. The same pain and hurt that resounded within him was ever present within the former vampire, albeit magnified a hundred-fold. 

                _Ex-vampire, Garrett mused and, for the tenth time since Spike and Buffy had returned, the Bank Manager wondered how Spike's new condition hadn't really surprised him. Oh, it had thrown him for a loop but he had recovered quickly, even throwing out a decently sardonic remark. He knew his face hadn't betrayed the momentary surprise he had felt seeing the sun brushing across Spike's back. Not only that, but he had been hurt by Buffy's lack of explanation though he understood her concern with Dawn and dismissed it. But one thing he couldn't dismiss was the understanding of the former 'Big Bad'. Though nothing had been said about Buffy, Garrett couldn't help but look at their conversation as a sort of non-alcoholic means of drowning their sorrows. Talking about each other's work-related experiences of the last two years eased the tension and hostility that permeated between them. It would never be gone, however, since both knew that the other had—and always would have—a special place in Buffy's heart. _

                "Why did you do it?" Garrett asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Again, Spike needed no explanation to the topic, though the lack of malice in the other man's voice puzzled him. 

                "Don't know," he replied and, for the hundredth time in the last two days, he wished he hadn't set up a maximum cigarette quota for himself. Three a week just wasn't enough, especially considering the unexpected circumstances of the last twenty-four hours. 

                "Actually," he began after several moments of silence, "one of the first things I thought when I got back to my crypt was why I _didn't do it." Spike noticed the slight hardening of the man's jaw and he was impressed by Garrett's ability to mask his feelings. __Guess he's giving me the benefit of the doubt, Spike thought, almost disbelievingly. _

                "Why?" 

                "Gotta understand, mate, I was a vampire then. Hundred plus years of guiltless, remorseless actions under my belt.  I was used to taking what I want, no questions asked, no worries about a nagging in my gut afterwards. Even with Dru, when I 'urt her, I felt bad when I did it, but gave it no mind after I apologized. But with Buffy…" his gaze shifted to the ceiling, "it was different. I felt bloody horrible, like I wanted to lie in a tub full of holy water, or sit in a sunny field, anything to get my mind off of what I had done. It was almost as bad as when she…" a lump formed in his throat and Spike trailed off, lost in thoughts of the past. 

                Garrett noted that this had been the second time that Buffy's…disappearance had been brought up (or was about to be brought up, in this case) and he knew there had been something Buffy had not told him. It hurt him somewhat that she hadn't confided in him about this, but he understood. There were some things that even the most honest of people kept from their significant other. Hell, he had his own fears and secrets he had refrained from telling her. Feelings that he'd deal with on his own. 

                He cast the thoughts aside and waited for Spike to compose himself. He watched as the sandy-haired man's face blanked into an emotionless mask, though his eyes still carried a battery of emotions firing from within. 

                "Anyway, it hadn't been the first time I'd felt bad about hurtin' her.  Though, the other times I thought I was helpin' her. Turned out, I just 'urt her in one instance, failed her in the other." Garrett notice that, like his eyes, Spike's voice betrayed the emotionless front that he was obviously shooting for. The raven-haired man said nothing, only nodding in understanding. 

                "Thing was, nothin' I ever did was to hurt her intentionally," he paused, as their history ran rampant through his mind, "well," he re-phrased with a self-deprecating smile, "after I fell in love with her, that is. Point being, after that night, when I got to my crypt, I was lost, unsure of what I was." It was not lost on Spike that he was sharing with a stranger the same things he had expressed to Rachel and Buffy. Why he felt so comfortable sharing it with Garrett was a mystery but he had the suspicion that it was from the mutual sympathy between them about being in a difficult place in their lives. 

                "I never wanted to hurt her, contrary to my actions. I was fractured between the man I wanted to be for her…and the monster I couldn't be because of the chip." Spike smiled at Garrett's non-judgmental eyes and he couldn't help but think that, were circumstances different, the man could have been a very good friend.     

                "So," Garrett's voice injected itself into the vein of silence, "you found a way to become human." 

                Spike chuckled, and both were surprised in the sincerity of the sound. "Hardly, mate. Just goes to show you don't know me too well."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Good old Spike here never seems to break things down simplistically, 'cept, of course, if it's other people's feelings. The thing is, my first bit o' logic was to blame the chip.  Halfway convinced myself that it was the reason I felt that way—buggerin' up my feelings, it was. So I left that same night, determined to get the bloody thing removed. So I did some diggin', found a demon that granted wishes and made a trip to good old Africa."

                "Seems like a wasted trip," Garrett replied then held his hands up in peace on the dark look Spike granted him, "I mean, if you wanted to get her back."

                "Not sure I'm followin' that train out the station, mate."

                "Okay, so you wanted to get the chip out, or so you thought at first, right?" Spike nodded. "Well, if you wanted to get it out, I assume you wanted to be able to get revenge on her…" he trailed off, waiting for Spike to understand what he was saying. 

                Spike's eyebrows furrowed, unsure to where Garrett was heading. Did he know the chip didn't work on Buffy? Because it was quite clear she hadn't told him about her death—so how did she explain him being able to attack her in the bathroom? Well, Spike sure as hell wasn't going to explain, so Garrett would just have to formulate his own conclusions. 

                His mind resumed its thought as to what Garrett mentioned about getting revenge on her. Assuming that Garrett knew the chip didn't work on Buffy, Spike closed his eyes, bringing forth the conflicting thoughts he had had at the time. For a moment, he had indeed thought about attacking her, trying to kill her and the demon had the perfect plan; hurt her friends, to weaken her emotional state, thus distract her during the fight. An unconscious smile played at his lips as he deduced what Garrett had been getting at. There was no doubt in Spike's mind that the man would have made a formidable vampire. 

                Seeing that Spike 'got it', Garrett began again. "So, if it was revenge that you wanted, you could have taken it out on her friends, am I right?" 

                "That you are," Spike replied.

                "Well, if it was revenge you were seeing, couldn't you have summoned one of those vengeance demons?" 

                "You really know how to think evilly," Spike quipped. Garrett smiled, knowing that Spike's comment was quite an impressive compliment from an ex-vampire.  

                "Well, being a computer programmer on the side calls for logical thinking around problems. Calling a vengeance demon to grant you a wish seemed to have been the most straightforward course of action."

                "True," Spike conceded. "The only thing is that I wasn't half as convinced in my heart that revenge was what I wanted. My words and surface feelings may have told you otherwise but, in my heart, I knew I didn't wanna cause her anymore pain."

                "So you, what? Had it in mind to turn human so you could have a soul?" Spike chuckled at the man's obviously thought out reasoning before answering. 

                "To tell you the truth, mate, being alive was the last thing I expected. I mean, yeah, I did go to get the soul, so I could be worthy of her. The little installation of working parts was just an added bonus." Spike refrained from calling himself human, knowing that he was anything but. Humans weren't able to twist the heads off of demons or kick through brick walls or heal a gunshot wound to the stomach in a few days. But he wasn't going to share that tidbit of info with Garrett, considering he had yet to inform Buffy of those particulars, though he had a feeling that she knew something was up.

                "Okay, but that still doesn't answer why you just didn't go to a vengeance demon."

                "Vengeance demons," Spike reiterated, tasting the word on his tongue. "See, the thing about those chits is that they are really particular as far as the vengeancy, or justice, thing goes. Has to be a warranted desire, or reason, for vengeance. In my case, there was none. To be honest, Buffy had more right to vengeance against me instead o' the other way 'round. Glad she didn't go that route, though. Wouldn't fancy havin' me wrinklies sittin' up in a jar on her mantelpiece." Both men laughed, however cautiously, at that image. No, it wasn't a comfortable thought in the least. 

                 "So, why didn't you come back?" Garrett asked after a few minutes of quiet. "I mean, you got what you wanted—a soul to be worthy of her—so why didn't you come back?"

                Spike sighed. What had started out as simple shoptalk had descended into an almost heart-to-heart, something the former vampire had not wanted. Running a hand through his curly locks, Spike faced the man in front of him, his blue eyes full of regret. 

                "Funny thing about getting the soul, mate—it only proved to me how unworthy I was of her. Spike, as a vampire wasn't worthy. Spike as a human wasn't worthy. I thought there was too much pain between us, most of it thanks to me, to have any semblance of a relationship. I knew Buffy wouldn't let me forget about what I had done seeing as I wasn't her precious Angel," Garrett flinched at the anger and resentment Spike flicked out the name with. Though he didn't know much about Angel, Xander had told him a little about the saga that was the Buffy-Angel story along with what he knew about the Spike-Angel hate wheel. 

                Spike forced the scowl that naturally accompanied his sire's name fade and he continued, "I knew that coming back would only bring on painful memories for her and I had hurt her enough to last the rest of her life," his eyes watered at the thought of the pain he had caused her. "I thought her life would be so much easier without me in it. I didn't think I'd ever be able to offer her a normal life." He nodded poignantly towards Garrett, "Looks like things worked out better for her."

                Spike's words were not lost on Garrett and he could only nod back. That day at the Expresso Pump, when he had called Buffy out, was the first he had heard of Spike. Buffy told him quite a bit about their relationship, though Garrett had known she fuzzed up some of the details. It wasn't until he saw her fighting some demons in the graveyard that she spilled the details on being a slayer and, later, on Spike's true nature. Garrett wasn't sure if Buffy knew or was in denial but he had known then that she loved Spike. Part of him had been wary in starting a relationship with her for the simple fact of her bond with the vampire had seemed to have been unresolved and Garrett had known, through experience, that someone with unresolved feelings for an ex was not someone to be starting a relationship with—it could only end in pain for both parties. But he had put conventional wisdom aside and took a leap of faith and had been, for the most part, content with the last year and a half. But now, seeing Spike in the flesh, the love that was in his eyes for Buffy coupled with Buffy's distance over the last two months had Garrett doubting things more than ever. It didn't help looking into Spike's eyes, either. They shone with a love that Garrett had a hard time grasping, let alone feeling. And for the first time, he wondered if he was the right person to make Buffy happy. 

                "They've been up there awhile," Garrett said, changing the subject. Spike smiled, understanding the tactic and appreciating it. "I wonder what they're doing?" 

                "They're sisters, mate," Spike pointed out as if that explained it all. But Spike's thoughts weren't as confident as his words. They had turned from insecurity and pain thinking of Buffy to the anguish he had seen in his Bit's eyes when she saw him in the kitchen. The guilt and self-loathing written on her face was only surpassed by what he had seen in Buffy's eyes after he had attacked her. But whereas Buffy had forgiven him, Spike didn't know if Dawn would. For as much as Buffy went to him for comfort, she never depended on him or looked up to him like Dawn had. The youngest Summers' affection for him had extended well beyond a teenage crush. It was a sort of big brother/hero worship as well and when he had attacked Buffy—when he had left, he shattered everything that Dawn had felt for him. And even if he and Buffy, by the grace of God, got together, he didn't think things would ever be the same between him and his Niblet. 

                "She loves you, you know?" Garrett's words sliced through Spike's malaise and his blue eyes blinked in confusion.

                "Who?" He asked warily. 

                "Dawn," Garrett replied with certainty. 

                Spike stared at the man in disbelief before he chuckled, shaking his head in resignation. "Not anymore, she doesn't," he responded, allowing the hopelessness of reacquainting himself with Dawn to finally sink in. The despair hung from his shoulders like a shroud, covering any signs of his earlier jubilance. 

                Garrett noticed the change in Spike's demeanor instantly and was amazed that the same person who had not given up on Buffy (at least subconsciously) had so easily conceded defeat where Dawn was concerned. 

                "It's easier that way, isn't it?" Garrett said offhandedly. 

                "Probably is. Least this way, she won't have to answer questions about her best friend's 'sexy' accent." 

                "I'm not talking about Dawn," Garrett cleared and pointed a finger at Spike, "I'm talking about you." Spike's eyes shot up and the blue fury burned into Garrett though he did nothing to avert the hard gaze. He forced his emotions and tenseness from his body and waited for Spike to respond. 

                "Who the bloody fuck do you think you are?" Spike demanded, his voice low but hard. His eyes narrowed into slits and his shoulders hunched as if he were preparing to pounce. Spike's posture was not lost on Garrett but the younger man held his ground firmly. 

                "Well, last time I checked my driver's license…" but he was cut off. 

                "I'd cut it with the sarcasm if I were you and tell me where the fuck do you get off sayin that?" Spike was pissed, not only by what Garrett had said but also for his own folly in believing that he and the man were starting to get along. "You think it doesn't hurt like a bloody stake in my chest every time I think about her? You don't think I hurt knowing that hugging me will be the last thing on her mind when she graduates this weekend? You don't think I wouldn't do anything, including giving up my bloody soul, to just hear her say the words 'I love you, Spike' like she did when I took care of her two years ago?" Garrett felt a pang in his chest when Spike's voice faltered but he stood firm. 

                "I can only imagine what it feels like, Spike," Garrett conceded, "the pain you must be feeling. But I do know one thing, though. That pain you are feeling is a far cry from what you'd feel if you talked to her and you heard the hurt and disappointment in her voice, wouldn't it?" 

                "Don't need to hear it," he said, leaning back into the chair, "I saw it in her eyes." 

                "That may be so but the words would hurt a lot more than what you saw in her eyes and you know it. You know what I think? I think you've lived with pain for so long, anything that takes you out of that comfort zone ache in your chest is too much."

                "So I guess declaring my love to Buffy was too much, huh?" 

                "No," Garrett replied curtly. Forcing his tone neutral, he continued. "That was a risky thing you did when you first told her and it's even riskier now that you've come back to let her know. But Dawn is different. At least Buffy used to be your mortal enemy so the pain and or rebuke is somewhat expected. Well, at least it's not out of the blue. But Dawn, she was never like that with you, I bet. From what I understand, she's had a crush on you since day one and you've never really been in bad with her, am I right?" When Spike remained silent, Garrett continued. "You've been so many things to her. A crush. A hero. A best friend. You've been everything that's she's needed at the time she's needed it and to see her disappointed in you, to hear her say how much you hurt her is almost too much to even think about much less hear. And you think you can't handle it. And you know what? As long as you have that outlook, nothing will ever be right between you two again. Isn't the potential pain worth it when you get to see her look at you with that look of adoration and wonder again? To know that you'll always be in her heart, like she is in yours?" 

                Spike said nothing and instead took to studying his shoes.  As much as he didn't want to face the truth, he knew Garrett was right. He would journey to Hell and back if he had too if it meant he could see Dawn smile at him like she used to. No, the pain couldn't be an excuse anymore. He had braved the trials with a stout heart, so why the change now? If he loved her like he knew he did, he would do everything in his power to win her trust and love back. She meant as much and, in some ways more, to him than Buffy did and he sure as hell wasn't going to blow his relationship with her just because he was afraid of what she would say to him. 

                Decision made, Spike leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget about everything—Buffy, Garrett, the ring, his soul. There was only one thing he wanted on his mind; Dawn. There was a lot of groveling he'd have to do to win her back, but that didn't scare him. Neither did the things he knew she'd say to him. The only thing that he wanted was to know the love of his Niblet again. 

                As he drifted into a light doze, he realized that that might not be too much to ask for after all.  

***

                As I hold Dawn's head gently in my lap, I try to block out the pain I feel listening to her heart wrenching sobs. It's not like I didn't expect this…well, that's not true. I _so did not expect the pain to be so raw and I guess that's because she never really showed it these past two years. I mean, we got really close but there were still things we never talked about, Spike being numero uno on that list. Actually, Spike was about the only thing we didn't talk about, at least not after her breakdown a few months after he disappeared. _

                A sharp pang filters in my chest--right where the void his leaving had left in me. It still hurts, thinking about him leaving us, not coming back. He never even called or wrote to tell us if he was dust or not. Okay, so he's not a vampire anymore, but still.  The point is that even though I told him earlier how bad it hurt me when he left, sharing the pain with someone equally as affected heightens the gash in my chest although it lessens it at the same time. Weird, I know but that's me--weird Buffy with the abnormal boyfriends of the pointed-tooth variety. Stop it, Buffy; it's not about me. Dawn needs me and I have to put my feelings on hold for her.   

                "Dawnie," I whisper and cup her lowered head between my hands. The tears are soft against the flesh of my palm but they burn me like the pain of my baby sister always has. Seeing her in such pain hurts me so much that I sometimes can't even form thoughts on it. But like so many other things, I can't let it affect me now—she's depending on my strength and I will give as much of it to her as I've got. 

                "Dawn look at me," I say firmly but not without sympathy and lift her chin from my lap so I can look into her eyes. The sight of those luminescent, tear-filled eyes staggers me and I forget what I was going to say for several seconds. Finally, breaking the haze, I steel my resolve while fighting through my own teary vision. 

                My hands move to her shoulders, coaxing her to sit on the bed and she complies absently as I can see it in her eyes that she's still not all there. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lay the other hand on her thigh, patting it lightly. It takes a few moments before I think she's up to talking and I wait patiently, desperately trying to ignore the tingling at the base of my skull knowing that my ex-lover and pseudo-fiancé are downstairs, unsupervised. It's not like I don't trust them or anything cuz, hey, they are adults. They are grown men…who just happen to be in love with the same woman. 

                Oh, God. I can't believe I left them alone. **Sigh. Well, at least I haven't heard anything breaking…**

                Several sniffles from Dawn let me know that she is done crying and I focus my attention back to my beautiful little sister. 

                "Hey," she says, offering me a weak smile. 

                "Hey, snot girl," I reply and she lowers her eyes, her smile growing just a fraction. "So, how are we feeling?" I ask and she snorts, very unladylike, I might add. 

                "Like my brains'll come out if I blow my nose."

                "And may I say 'ewww' to the imagery." We both laugh at that, genuine laughs that belie the hurt we're both feeling.

                "Well, you'd say the same thing if your head felt like this," she says, defending herself. I give her my trademark sisterly smirk that…Smirk? Smirk? Since when do I have a trademark smirk? 

                Ignoring my wandering thoughts, I turn a serious eye to her. "So, how are you feeling?" She lowers her eyes, the temporary mirth gone from her angelic features. When she speaks, her voice is low but I can still hear it clearly. 

                "It hurts so much." She looks up at me and those aquiline eyes of hers fill with tears again. "I didn't know anything could hurt this bad," she drops her eyes and I can tell she feels ashamed. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" 

                I cup her cheek in my hand and make her look me in the eye again. "Dawn, listen to me; you are not pathetic in any way. Just because you're hurting so bad doesn't…" but I never finish as she shoots to her feet, anger in her eyes. But it's not directed at me and, when she speaks, I see that it's not directed at Spike, either. 

                "Aren't I?! My sister and mother died, Buffy, within months of one another and I'm here now, feeling worse than I did then because someone else left me. Somebody that wasn't even related to me. Hell, he wasn't even human! And here I am," she puts her hand to her chest, "feeling something in here so raw that I want to rip it out of me. How can I not be pathetic?" Her hands drop to her sides and it's obvious that she's fighting for control of her emotions. I stand up slowly and walk over to her. I take her hands in mine and look up into her eyes, offering her a sad smile. 

                "You feel guilty."

                "What do you mean?" 

                "You feel guilty that Spike leaving hurt more than when Mom and I died," when she averts her eyes, she tells me everything I need to know. "Dawn," I coax and she looks down at me though she won't meet my eyes. "Don't feel guilty." 

                "Why shouldn't I?" Her voice is so soft and is filled with self-loathing. 

                "Dawnie, you can't help how you feel." 

                "I should. How can I feel worse that _he left than when two people I loved so much died? What does that say about me?"_

                "That you loved him just as much as you loved me and Mom." Her mouth opens, ready to protest, but she closes it in defeat. Well, at least she's not denying it. 

                "Yeah," she throws out bitterly before taking her hands out of mine and walking over to the window. " 'Loved' being the operative word." Her forearms rest on the sill and she stares up at the sky. I follow her over there and mimic her pose. We stand there, silently for a few minutes, enjoying the brief reprieve and admiring the beauty that the world can be. Birds are chirping, soaring through the bright sky, into the green shrubs and trees that are their homes. The thick smell of freshly cut grass wafts through the window and I am reminded of simpler times, when we lived in LA. There was no slayer, no vampires or demons, no Scoobies and no Hellmouth. Just me, Mom, Dad and Dawnie. It seems like two lifetimes ago…wait, it is. Things were so much easier back then but—I don't know. I hear the distant purr of a cat (I wonder if he's stuck in a tree) and the cacophonous barking of dogs and I smile. Even in nature, chaos is a natural order, mixed with a perfect harmony that only Mother Earth can produce. It's funny how all the order and chaos mirror how my life is now. And I used to think, before Sunnydale, that I would die if I didn't have the right dress for Homecoming or the particular shade of lipstick. I miss those times, I really do. But you know what? As much as I complain about it, my life isn't too bad. Aside from Mom dying, there's not much I would change about it. 

                "You know," I say, never taking my eyes off the white clouds floating through the sky, "I still love Angel." I feel Dawn's eyes bore into me and I catch her mouth open. I can imagine what she'd look like head on but I don't give in to the curiosity. 

                "Umm, okay…" she replies, unsure of an appropriate response. 

                "I'm not gonna say that there still aren't some lingering feelings of hurt and resentment that I have, but that's not because of him. Not, really at least," I wave my hand in front of me, brushing a fly away. "What I mean is that, despite what he did—Angelus aside—leaving me, I still love him."

                "He was your first love," Dawn supplies. 

                "Yeah," I admit, "but it's not just that. It's about loving someone, truly loving someone. It goes beyond crushes or infatuation and, to be honest, it doesn't have to be romantic, either."

                "What do you mean?"

                "When you love someone, Dawnie, really love someone, you will always love them. No matter what they say or do, a part of you will always care for them. Now that's not to say that you'll always have warm, fuzzy feelings about them or anything. Just that when you admit to yourself that you love someone, they will always have a place in your heart, no matter how bad they may turn out to be.

                "And then," I continue after another prolonged silence, "there are those just make mistakes. They hurt you in ways you can't imagine, but they don't do it out of malice. They just screw up and hurt you in the process. Sometimes, that is worse than someone purposely hurting you."

                "How so?"

                "Because, at least when someone does something intentional to hurt you, you can always convince yourself that he or she didn't love you as much as you thought. And though that may not be the case, it's easier convincing yourself of that than the other side."

                "The other side where someone tries to rape your sister and then leaves you when you need him most," I smile at Dawn's deadpanned expression and notice that a big part of the anger is gone from her voice. Still, if she's as stubborn as I am, there are still some arguments yet to be made. So, I try a different tactic. 

                "Dawn, remember the whole dancing demon thing?"

                "Uh, almost-bride-to-be here," she replies with a wave of her hand. 

                "How many people do you think died during that whole disco inferno fiasco?" She wrinkles her eyebrows and offers me a blank look before hunching her shoulders in defeat. 

                "From what Giles found out, eight. Now, do you remember how it all got started?"

                "Xander wanted to see if he and Anya would work…" she trails off and her eyes shine with understanding. Good, my point's getting across. 

                "Do you hate Xander for what he did? Or Willow?" A momentary frown lines her face as the mention of Willow but it quickly disappears. It took Dawn awhile to forgive Willow for almost turning her back into the Key and, even now, Dawn doesn't like talking about that. 

                "No," she concedes. I reach over to her and run my hand through her hair, getting lost in its silky texture. The look of innocence on her face reminds me of our childhood, when I would take her to the mall with my friends. She would always be so happy that 'Big Sis' was taking her. She was so innocent back then, unaware of the dangers of the world. Well, so was I, but Dawn was never fated to fight the forces of darkness, it just so happens that her sister is. 

                "Dawn," I say and watch as she turns teary eyes to me, "you have to forgive. You have to forgive Spike. Not just because he needs it, but because you do to." She stares at me as her eyes start to overflow with tears and, in seconds, she is in my arms once again. 

                "I don't want him to leave again," she cries into my shoulders, "I don't want him to leave." 

                "Me neither, Dawnie," I confess, fighting back tears, "me neither." 

***

                The sound of two pair of footsteps on the stairs startled Spike from his nap and he bolted to his feet. Garrett removed his arm from over his eyes and studied the obviously nervous man across from him.   

                Buffy came down first and Spike watched as her hair bounced on her shoulders, pleased that she had taken it out of the ponytail. She wore the same outfit as before though her makeup was a bit fresh. He scanned her eyes and noticed the slight puffiness around the edges, immediately knowing that she had been crying. His first instinct was to go to her and he took a step in her direction but stopped when Dawn came in behind her, bag in hand. 

                Spike stared at his Niblet with fright and awe. On the one hand, he didn't know if he could take another dose of her disgust and he was at first hesitant to make eye contact. But that thought quickly diminished as he took in completely the young woman that had taken her place. 

                To say she was beautiful was an understatement and Spike could only liken her to his imagination of what the radiating light from an angel would be like. Her brown hair was curled and most of it hung over her right shoulder. The dark blue shirt and jeans she wore clung to her curves and Spike was privy to how much she had filled out in two years. But it wasn't just her curves that he noticed. 

                Her posture was different, bolder. In it he could see that she had tapped into the power that was within her and he smiled at his eternal rose, for that's what she was to him. As long as he lived, the picture of Dawn as she stood now would never fade, never be replaced. Even if she spurned him, never to talk to him again, he would be at peace knowing that she had grown to be a capable woman with the power to make a difference in the world. 

                Dawn saw the fear and complete adoration in Spike's eyes and all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and forget the last two years. But she couldn't do that, Buffy had told her as much before they had come down. There was a lot to work out between the two of them and Buffy had advised her to take things slowly, not trying to overlook any feelings she had. Of course, she wondered if Buffy was following her own advice.

                "Oh screw it," she muttered before dropping her bag and running over to her best friend. Spike was just able to right himself before they both tumbled to the floor. Strong arms and legs enveloped him and he was lost in the refreshing scent of raspberries and the fragrance that was Dawn. No words were spoken, only silent sobs as both Key and ex-vampire clung to one another as if their lives depended on it. They didn't care how they looked for the simple reason that, at that moment, they were to only two people in the world. 

                Garrett smiled at the surprising reunion, glad that Spike could relieve at least a modicum of the pain that was inside of him. His smile faded when he turned to Buffy. Tears shown in her hazel eyes as she took in her sister and former lover's embrace. In her gaze were happiness and bliss…and a longing. Garrett wasn't sure exactly what it was for, but it was there nonetheless. _You know damn well what it's for, a part of him thought and that was indeed true. Not admitting it didn't change the fact that he knew she still cared for Spike and not in a just-friends sort of way and for the countless time, Garrett wondered if their hiatus had anything to do with Buffy's unresolved feelings for Spike. __Don't have to wonder anymore, now do I? _

                Finally, after what felt like a mere instant and eternity alike, Dawn disentangled herself from Spike and he rested his hands on her hips. Both their eyes were filled with tears though only Dawn's had filtered down her cheeks. Spike tentatively raised a hand to her face, brushing his knuckles across her cheek. He smiled when she closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture, a sob catching at the back of his throat. 

                "Dawn," he managed with difficulty. On her name, Dawn opened her eyes and stared into the blue pools of love that gazed at her in wonder. For an instant, she thought everything would be back to normal, easy as pie but as she peered into Spike's eyes, she saw the scars of things she couldn't even fathom. She took a step back instinctively and her stomach knotted at the hurt that flashed across Spike's face. 

                Spike's chest burned when Dawn moved away but he hid it was well, all things considered. It had hurt him as much, if not more, than some of the things Buffy had said to him earlier. And like Buffy, Dawn had a right to be pissed, if not totally disgusted with him. If she never wanted to see him again, it wouldn't be too great a punishment…

                His thoughts were interrupted as an open hand collided with his cheek and his head rocked at the slap. 

                "Dawnie," Buffy said and started for the two until Spike stopped her with a glance. She nodded, understanding that this was what they both needed. 

                "You left," Dawn said and Buffy noticed that only a sliver of contempt from earlier made it into her tone. 

                "Dawn," he began again before her open hand smacked him in the face for the second time. He lowered his eyes, not ready to see the hatred from her eyes for a second time. The tears he had forced at bay sixty seconds ago now slid freely down his angular cheeks to his black shirt that suckled at the moisture. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to die. No torture could ever recreate the pain that threatened to erupt from his breast and he could imagine that this was what hell felt like. 

His shoulders began to shake and he didn't feel the strong arms encircle him in a protective embrace. All he knew was that he was safe from the torture in these loving arms and, with that, Spike melted into Dawn. 

As she held him, the young woman bit her lip in disgust at what she had done, though the anger demanded release at that moment. The weight of it had been lifted from her heart, though a lot of pain remained. But that, too, would disappear after she and Spike truly talked. They had time to do that because, despite a list of insecurities, she knew he would never leave her again. Even if he wasn't whispering it over and over into her ear, she knew he would always stay with them. He had to. He was as much a part of her family as Buffy and, in some ways, even more so. He was the one she could always count on, the one who never talked down to her. He had been her rock when Buffy had died, instilling her to live more than Buffy's last words to her ever could. He had been the only constant in her life then, and to have him gone for so long without a word? Like she had told Buffy, Dawn never realized something could hurt so badly. But as bad as it hurt, it would be better now. Spike would make it better. 

He always did.  


	9. Part IX

Do What You Have to Do

Part IX

Buffy impatiently flipped through her third magazine in what felt like as many hours. Truthfully, she knew it had only been about thirty minutes since Spike had retreated to the safety of her old room, but she was restless, wanting to do something. 

_Obviously my company isn't needed, _she thought snidely. When Dawn had slapped Spike and she had watched him crumble, Buffy wanted nothing more than to soothe his pain, to wrap her arms around him and whisper to him, reminding him that she would be there through it all for him. In that moment, Buffy had forgotten about everything but Spike. She had forgotten about the past they had built of pain, she had forgotten their harsh words and harsher actions toward one another, she had forgotten that he had been a vampire, one of the most deadly of his kind in recent memory. All that she had known was the broken soul before her needed mending and she was the one to do it. 

With at that considered, it was only natural for her to be a bit jealous that Dawn had hugged Spike like Buffy had wanted to. 

_I'm not jealous, _she argued internally. _In fact, I'm on the opposite end of the whole jealous spectrum and damn near ecstatic! My sister and her best friend made up—well, somewhat. _She knew that there was still a long road of broken hearts and promises to mend between the two but the look her sister had given Spike before she left had Buffy expecting that the pair would once again be like 'peas & carrots'. _Or some other despicable combination of wholly goodness, _she mused. 

Of course, despite her obvious relief at the reunion, she couldn't help but feel twin pangs of jealousy and guilt course through her. She could admit that she was jealous of how Dawn had held Spike, baring her feelings like only she could do. Buffy's guilt originated from the twinge of jealousy harbored toward her little sister as well as the fact that one Garrett Morgan just happened to be in the same room while Buffy was making ga-ga eyes at the man formerly known as the Evil Undead. 

"What is wrong with you?" she spat and began pacing the floor, hands clasped behind her back. "First you get a man, can't keep him. Want a man, he uses you. Get another man but don't want him and he leaves. Then have a man and use him, driving him half insane. Now…" she trailed off, her hand coming up to massage her forehead. She wearily flopped into the couch, her legs splayed in front of her, arms lax at her sides. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to sleep. For about a zillion years. 

"Nothing can ever be simple, can it?" she breathed out, throwing her hand over her eyes. The creeping digits of exasperation slithered across her consciousness as the slayer's predicament continued to assault her senses. 

There was no doubt in her mind that she was doing the bitching thing again, complaining about her life and its little complexities, but she really did have good reasons, didn't she? Not only was her former lover holed up in her former room moping, he had unceremoniously waved her off when she had motioned to follow him to the steps. _I just wanted to comfort him like he did me last year, _she pouted, tactically ignoring the voice of sarcasm that pointed out she did not just want to jump his bones. 

_He's my friend and I wanted to be there for him. There was going to be no bone-jumping whatsoever. _She rolled her eyes internally as the voice mocked her with silent laughter, knowing the truth. 

Then there was the whole Garrett issue that she _so _did not want to tackle at the moment but her conscience wouldn't let it rest. She knew that she wasn't being fair to him and, in a way, it mirrored her relationship with Riley. _Except I really do love Garrett. _To this, the inner voice had no reply because at least that much was true. Buffy did love Garrett—a lot. He had been there for her when she needed someone, had put up with her ever evolving (and often bitchy) persona for almost two years. Never did he try to change her into something he wanted her to be, nor did he allow his insecurities to become a barrier in their relationship. He could read her moods and desires as well as anyone she had…well, almost anyone. And though it wasn't _too _important, the sex was definitely of the wow_. _He was the most attentive lover she had…_Uh oh. There's that_ _'_almost' _again. _

"Damn it," she sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, everything came back to Spike. It was understandable, considering the lack of closure on their previous relationship and the ugly way they had parted. The fact that he was staying here lent credence as to the current comparisons but she couldn't deny that this was something recent. In fact, the first time she had gone out with Garrett, she had later admitted to herself that he didn't have Spike's quick wit, nor his bleached blonde hair. No matter what, it was always something and for the last few months it had nagged at her mind, prickling her insides. It wasn't if she loved Garrett or not that was the problem. The problem was whether or not she was _in _love with him. 

"Just can't let someone sweep you off your feet, B," she muttered before letting out a disgruntled sigh. She was the slayer, always one to be strong, always to be the rock and it was difficult for her to lay back and let someone else do all the work. Not that sweeping her off her feet would be classified as work to the lucky bloke that succeeded in doing it. The fact of the matter was that…

"Oh my God," she said, her eyes wide in disbelief, "did I just say 'bloke'? Tell me I did not just say 'bloke'."

"You didn't say 'bloke'," came the witty reply and Buffy squeaked in surprise and instantly jumped into a defensive stance. 

"Xander!" she admonished, one hand on her hip and the other pressed across her thumping chest. 

"Sorry, Buff," the brunette replied, dropping his eyes sheepishly. "Didn't mean to make with the scaring. The door was unlocked and I…well, I called out but no one answered. And I did see your car, so…" he trailed off, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Buffy couldn't help but smile at one of her best friend's many distinguished idiosyncrasies. 

"It's okay," she assured before sitting down and patting the spot next to her. Nodding his thanks, Xander strode over to the couch and plopped down as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. 

"Rough day?" She asked and was greeted with a tired snort.

"If only 'rough' was a strong enough word to describe it." He begun his tale for her, starting with the wake-up call by one of his head guys at one of the sites he was supervising. Evidently, there had been some late-night vandalism at said site and the damage done had set the whole project back two weeks. That situation had taken up Xander's morning until about eleven, which, in turn made him late to the other site. He reached the second site in time enough to see Craig Roberts casually ignoring safety protocol just long enough to end up with a broken leg and concussion. 

"I had to stay there to settle things down and I was so busy that I forgot about calling Anya to cancel our lunch date. Needless to say, by the time I got to the Café, she was less than thrilled to see me."

"Did you tell her about what happened?"

"Well, yeah, but I kind of shut it up when she threatened to make my mouth disappear."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Anyway, she balled me out in front of the whole lunch crowd, rambling on about how she could think for 'One second I could be friends with the same man who loved me enough to have multiple orgasms with me but not enough to marry me and, in fact, chose to leave me at the altar on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life!'" the last part he had mocked the high pitched whine of Anya and Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from falling on the floor, laughing herself to tears. She didn't think Xander would take too kindly to that and she couldn't blame him. Having someone laugh at her most memorable failure would quickly land that person on her _people to make suffer _list. 

It had been two years and, though she had gotten better at not bringing it up, in times of anger and/or annoyance, Anya would rip into Xander with the whole wedding thing as the perpetual ace up her sleeve. Every time she said it, it had the invariable effect of knocking the wind out of him. Usually, they wouldn't speak for a week after that, only reconciling when they realized how stupid whatever the fight had been about. There was still a lot of hurt in Anya and Buffy doubted that the vengeance demon would ever fully forgive Xander for leaving her at the altar though Buffy was loath to tell him that. Xander (and Dawn, too) entertained a sliver of hope that the two would get back together but Buffy doubted that and to have those misgivings hurt her more than she cared to admit. Luckily, she had Willow there to lend an ear. 

"And to top it off," Xander continued, oblivious to Buffy's temporary hiatus into her mind, "she does the 'poof' thing again." 

"The 'poof' thing?" Buffy scrunched her eyebrows together. 

"You know, the 'poof' thing," on her confused look he added, "the grand entrances and exits made so often by Vengeance—or, excuse me—Justice demons."

"Oh," Buffy said, "she disappeared." Her relieved features widen in surprise as it dawned on her. "She disappeared…"

"In front of the whole lunch crowd," he said, finishing her thought. "In all her purplish poofdom, leaving me to hold the bag—figuratively speaking, of course," he deadpanned the last part as his eyes drifted closed. 

"Wow," the slayer whistled, "you really had a tough day, Xan."

"Yeah," he agreed and his features went strangely blank as he fixed Buffy with slightly hooded eyes. "And then, when I was going back to the site, to check up on things, I ran into this guy that I can't stand." 

"You did," Buffy replied, her voice hiding the slight wave of panic hurling around in her stomach. 

"Yeah," he said before breaking eye contact, "we never really got along, you know. Thought his ass was dead—figuratively speaking, of course," he said and Buffy noted the ringing sarcasm in his tone. "I never thought he'd show his face in this town again but obviously, I was wrong." Buffy shuddered at the murderous tone that tinged Xander's words and before she could reply, he jovially switched topics. 

"So," he said," slapping his hands on his thighs, "enough about my day. What about yours?"

For as much as I boasted and bragged about it, rarely have I missed being a vampire. Well there are a few things about it that I have missed. The whole no heartbeat thing—priceless party gag. Same goes with the game face. Though, to be honest, anytime I flashed the face at a party, I fail to remember anyone ever laughing. Hmm. Fancy that. 

Anyway, as I was saying, there's only a few things I miss about being a card-carrying member of the undead and a whole list of reasons what it is the last on my list of things to do in this lifetime ever again--tops on that list bein' another run-in with a bunch of soddin' gits like those in the Initiative. Didn't take to well to havin' a piece of silicon and metal shoved in my brain, never mind the fact that said utensil elicited a delightfully, incredible jolt of pain through my cerebellum any time I connected with a soddin' human. Not only was it embarrassing but it was this side short of torture. Aside from that bleedin' chip, migraines were never a factor in my life…well, my unlife. 

'Course now with me being all mortal and such, I am quite susceptible to the wonderful world of earth shattering head pains. Sorta like the one I have now. 

S'not like it's anything new, though. Been havin' 'em a little too frequently for my tastes these past two years. Rachel's the only one that knows about 'em. Sometimes when they are bad, worse than this one, I get a bit scared—yeah, I get scared—cuz I don't know what's goin' on. Already been to all the specialists in San Diego, taken a shitload of soddin' tests and they all come back the same: I'm in the best shape a bloke can be in, better shape than anyone of those quacks have ever seen. So, you see, it's nothing physical. To be honest, the first time I had one, I thought of Joyce. Thought she was getting' retribution for what I tried to do with her daughter by makin' me go the same way she did but I dismissed that thought rather quickly. I knew Joyce and, while she would have kicked my arse ten times over for what I did, she wouldn't 'ave killed me—just didn't have that meanness in her. Not like her daughters—Buffy and the Niblet. 

Dawn. 

I run a finger across my jaw where Dawn's hand connected. Thanks to my rapid healin', the marks are gone, though the pain at seein her like that is still resonatin' inside of me. It hurts bad enough to see her in pain, but to know that I've caused it is worse than anything Angelus has ever done to me. But as bad as it is, the way she held me after slapping me silly, how she begged me not to leave, has me filled with a hope I haven't felt since me an' Buffy's last time together in the crypt. The difference, however, is that my Niblet doesn't play—when she says somethin', she means it. She's not wishy-washy like some petite, blonde slayers that will remain nameless can be. Fact o' the matter is that if the Niblet was a few years older back then, maybe none of this would have ever happened. Well, with me be damn near a male slayer; guess things worked out for the best. 

Yeah, a male slayer. S'not the first time that particular thought has crossed my mind either. Wouldn't surprise me if those prats upstairs that call themselves the Powers threw this at us as a joke. Real funny—ha bloody ha. Course, I don't know if that's the case or that when Lurky hit me with the whammy, he allowed some of my vampiric essence to transfer. Guess I'll never know though. Don't fancy finding out that I'm a part of some bleedin' prophecy considerin' I got enough on my plate as it is. I'm not daft enough to think that not knowin' will stop whatever's comin', _if _something's comin', that involves me, but at least I won't be bugger-all out of my mind until it does come. And I thought Buffy was stubborn. 

I sigh audibly as I think about the hurt I saw in Buffy's eyes when I waved her away earlier. Don't quite remember seeing pain in her eyes because I spurned her advances. Course, the reason may be is because I never did. 

"Maybe I should apologize," I say to the ceiling my eyes are fixed upon, "explain to her why I did that." I nod to myself and get up gingerly from the bed. I'm pleased to feel that the soddin' migraine has been reduced to a dull thud in the back of my brain. That's definitely of the good. I laugh silently, both in amusement and in horror, when I realize what I just said. Guess Buffy's rubbing off on me more than I thought. 

"Too bad it's not the way she used to," I murmur and silently make my way back downstairs. I jog down the steps, eagerly seeking to apologize to Buffy if I hurt her feelings. Yeah, I know I'm a poof to the nth degree, not to mention head of the class at Love's Bitch University, but I still can't stand to see her or the Niblet hurting. 

So lost in my own internal dialogue I fail to realize that a conversation's taking place in the living room. 

"Buffy," I call as I turn into the living room. I stop as I am greeted with one of the most hateful pair of eyes I have ever since. 

"Bastard," Xander sneers, rising to his feet. "I knew you were here." 

"Whelp," I reply, my voice hiding my unease admirably. It's not like I can't take him, I know I can but this is only my second run-in with a Scooby member and even though I can't stand the ponce, something in me wants even Xander's approval. 

"So, what brings you here?" he says, taking another step towards me. I see Buffy place a hand on his arm and he relaxes a bit. I read his eyes and know it's only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan. I'll just make sure I'm not the one that pushes the on button. 

"Fancied a vacation," I reply and steal a glance at Buffy. Those beautiful hazel eyes are pleading with me to behave and I give her a genuine smile. Already decided to behave myself today, luv.

He takes another step towards me, though it's surprisingly non-aggressive. "So you mean to tell me you have no ulterior motives?"

"That's what I'm sayin'," I respond curtly. Not three complete sentences and this ponce is already threatening to drive me to drink. I don't know what it is but the whelp can grate my nerves with the best of 'em. Almost as well as I am with pissin' Peaches off. 

"And for some reason, I don't seem to believe you," he replies and I sense my own resolve slipping. 

"Don't matter what you believe, whelp. So long as Buffy knows the deal, you can sod off for all I care," I push off from the wall, my own body thrumming with anticipation. 

"Just don't think you can crawl back here and ask for forgiveness, because we ain't having it. If it was up to me, you'd be ashes by now." 

"News flash, ratchet head, not a vampire anymore," I waggle my arm in front of the window and the rays from the sun illuminate my tanned flesh and I watch the whelp stagger back in shock. The smile forming at my lips falls when I see a condescending smirk greet me. 

"Well, well, well," he says, eyeing me from head to toe. "And here I was hoping I was seeing things earlier at the Expresso Pump. Damn, I wish I was wrong." 

"What's your point?" I ask, ignoring his quick regrouping. 

"The point is, **Spike, **is that I don't know what type of magic you used but you don't even have to step out of line for me to stuff that magic right along with a nice, pointy piece of wood, into your chest."

"I'd like to see you try, Harris."

"Guys," Buffy says, stepping in between us, "cut it out." 

"And don't think I'm the only one who's got it in for you. Her _fiancé," _he says, nodding towards Buffy, "would love to have a one on one with you." He smiles sadistically when I flinch at the mention of Garrett and I already know he's gonna try and twist the knife in just that much deeper. "Oh, yeah, you didn't know. She's _engaged _Spike as in 'about to get married'." 

"Xander," Buffy yells but he continues as if he doesn't hear her. 

"And the funny thing is that he didn't need a spell for her to say I do," he turns around, satisfied before throwing over his shoulder, "guess that just shows that if they aren't crazy or under a spell, you've got no chance--loser." 

Even before the words leave my mouth, I know there's going to be trouble. Being the git that I am, I say them anyway. 

"I don't remember Anya being under any spell…" I don't get to finish as Xander's fist connects solidly with my jaw. 

Guess I pushed the button after all. 

***

Rarely had Spike been surprised by the power and speed a human could attain when their adrenaline levels rose. He had seen the supernatural feats mortals achieved when a loved one was in danger or their own lives were on the line. More than once, he had been on the receiving end of a superhuman punch or kick, that particular person's last gasp to save his or her life. Of course, it was never enough as they always ended up with his fangs buried in their throats. 

If only he had his fangs now. 

The rage that Xander felt was almost overwhelming and he didn't even remember turning around. In truth, he didn't remember anything but the image that would forever be burned into his mind—Anya and Spike, her body splayed open underneath the vampire as he pumped into her. Even now, after two years, that vision stuck with him and he wasn't sure whether or not he could ever get past it and no matter how much he wanted to get back with Anya, he wasn't sure if he'd ever forgive her for it. 

But now was not about Anya. Now was about revenge, retribution and all the other shit he wanted to pay Spike back for. Oh yeah, this was going to be sweet. 

The punch rocked Spike and the back of his head slammed against the wall. No sooner than he righted himself, Xander's second and, more damaging punch collided with his nose. Spike roared, though it was drowned out by the sickening crunch of broken bone. His eyes teared up automatically from his broken nose but he refused to close them. He saw Buffy from the corner of his eye move to grab Xander but the former vampire beat her to it. 

With a speed he had not had even as a vampire, Spike dug into Xander with a crushing body blow, doubling the construction worker over. Though he could have ended the fight with a simple knee to the face, a part of him knew it wouldn't be prudent to injure the git too much. Instead, he plowed a right hook into the brunette's left shoulder, relishing in the sound of his fist connecting with muscle. 

He watched in fascination as Xander careened out of control into the table next to couch, shattering it. Instinctively, Spike made ready to leap onto the downed man, oblivious to the blood pouring from his broken nose or the murderous glare in his own eyes. As he readied to finish the rising man with a kick to the ribs, a strong hand gripped his arm and flung him back into the wall where his head cracked against for the second time. 

"Bloody hell," he shouted, turning his gaze on the person whom dared to… "Buffy," he whispered, his anger dissipated at the site of an enraged and very hurt slayer in front of him. He was amazed at how her eyes blazed with unkempt fury and unshed tears and he was helpless, falling in love with her all over again. 

"What in the fuck do you two think you're doing?" she spat her eyes migrated from Spike to the staggering Xander with equal fury and for that, Spike breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't answer that," she answering when she saw the two men's mouths open in defense, "I don't want to hear the bullshit from either one of you."

Her hard eyes softened as she finally registered the blood pouring from Spike's nose and her best friend's hunched form. Silent tears fell from her eyes, unbidden, and both men stared at each other with the 'we really fucked up' expression. 

"Buffy," Spike said softly, his hand gingerly touched her on the shoulder. She backed away from his touch, her hands wiping the tears from her face. 

"Don't. Not now…"

"Buff…" Xander tried.

"I said don't. God, and I thought when you guys were horny was the only time you didn't know how to comprehend the word 'no'." 

The words impacted Spike harder than a church balcony ever could and his knees buckled visibly. Buffy saw his response and it took a moment for her mind to register what she had said and when she finally did, her eyes widened in horror and remorse. 

"Spike, I…" she reached out to him like he had done to her seconds before and, though he did not pull away, the rigidity of his body was enough for her to remove her hand. 

"I…I'll be upstairs, doin' a little repair work," he smirked and even Xander noticed the falsity of the gesture, "you hit harder than you look, whelp." 

"Yeah," the Scoobie replied, "same goes for you." He smiled at the looks of surprise that Buffy and Spike gave him before he sat down on the couch. Though they stared at him in disbelief, he had a hard time himself understanding how the anger and rage that had built up against Spike in the last seven years had been halved in less than ten seconds. 

Spike returned Xander's smile tightly before ducking his head and scurrying up the steps. Buffy fought the urge to reach out a grab him before he left. Instead, she steeled her nerves and turned towards one of her oldest friends. 

Xander studied Buffy carefully, trying to gauge her emotional state. Though he could tell that the anger that had been there earlier wasn't as prevalent, it wasn't gone completely, instead overshadowed by a painful sadness and concern. 

She sat next to him, her eyes cast forward, wringing her hands nervously in her lap. Xander stayed silent, waiting for her to make the first move in the inevitable reaming. 

After several tense moments, she turned towards him, the anger completely gone, replaced by an even more biting disappointment. 

"Are you okay?" He flinched at the unexpectedness of her question before nodding. 

"Yeah," he said, finding his voice. "If you discount the broken shoulder and torn abdominals, that is."

"He really did a number on you," Buffy said reaching out to touch Xander's shoulder. He winced at the slight pressure and smiled weakly.

"You should see the other guy," he joked. 

"Xander," Buffy warned and he raised his good arm in surrender. 

"Easy there, tiger. Just a little post-fight humor." 

"Sorry," she assented, "it's just…it's just been an emotional twenty-four hours." Xander nodded absently, not sure what to say. He fiddled with his hands, trying to come to grips with the last ten minutes. He had originally intended to come in here, fists a-flailing, weapons in hand, his only intent to send the platinum-haired demon to hell where he belonged. But then he had thought back to what he had seen earlier—the way Buffy had been completely at ease as she walked alongside Spike and Xander couldn't remember the last time she looked so at peace. Not with Garrett, not with Riley, and _definitely _not with Angel. In actuality, he didn't know if she had ever been that much at ease, even when they had first met. He knew part of it was her finally accepting who she was, what she was, even if she didn't tell the Scoobies. If there was one thing that Xander had to give himself credit for was his newfound ability to hold judgment on things, regardless of how strong he felt about something or someone. So maybe he slipped back into his old histrionics now and again, but that was expected. The bottom line was simple; some part of him was convinced to give Spike the benefit of the doubt—well, at least not try to kill him right away. He knew now that that was the right thing to do and it wasn't because he felt like a Mack truck had slugged him. 

"So," he began after a long silence, "where did you find him?"

"San Diego."

"San Diego? Huh. Just couldn't stay out of good old CA."

"I guess. You know he owns his own club? It's called _Blue Song. _Pretty popular from what I gathered."

"So the evil undead went all capitalistic on us. Anya would be proud." Both of the room's occupants lowered their heads at the mention of Anya and Spike in the same sentence. 

"I take it 'evil undead' is no longer an applicable term," Xander mused, attempting to break the somber mood that had gripped both he and Buffy. 

Buffy smiled. Leave it to Xander to deflect the intensity of a situation—well, at least when he wasn't the cause of it. 

"On that you would be correct."

"So, like what is he? Some sort of Super Saiyan? Because human he's not." 

"Why do you say that?" She asked him, intrigued. Buffy had her own suspicions about Spike's physical prowess—_No thoughts about **that **prowess—_when she had hugged him earlier. She had been in the ex-vampire's embrace on several occasions and the strength behind his hug earlier did not differ much from his vampiric hold. 

"Well, aside from the fact that I didn't even _see _the two punches he threw, I don't think I'm gonna be able to stand up straight for a week and my shoulder feels almost as bad as when that troll guy snapped my wrist. Buffy, what's going on?"

"I wish I knew Xander," Buffy replied honestly, "I wish I knew." 

***I know, no closure or cliffhanger like most chapters, but if I didn't stop here, run-on chapter.

***Well, guess we'll see the rest of Xander's reaction soon as well as some possible patrolling. 


	10. Part X

Do What You Have to Do

Part X

                The sweet sting of heat on his back kneaded the knotted muscles under his skin. The ceramic tiles were cool underneath his palms though they did nothing to relax his mind. Touching them--being in bathroom period--reminded him all too much of what had happened here two years ago. 

                "Come on, mate," he encouraged himself and ran a hand through his matted hair, "you can do this." Though his words were intended to rouse him from the doldrums, the fragmented pictures in his mind--_Buffy crying for him to stop, the ripped fabric of her robe, the scornful look of betrayal in her eyes--tightened their hold on him, dragging him further into the pits of his continual melancholy. _

                It was always worse in the shower. No matter where he was, no matter the décor, his mind always returned to the night that he had lost control; hurting the one person he loved above all others. That first year back had been unbearable and often times Rachel, whom he had met his first week in San Diego, would often cut off the water and drape a towel across his shoulders as he cowered in a ball on the shower floor. 

                "You really need to start doing this yourself," she would say, her light tone masking the concern visible behind her gray eyes. Spike was never out of it long, though there had been a handful of occasions where he had awakened in bed underneath the covers. They never spoke of it and for that, Spike was grateful. As he leaned against the cool tiles, his legs gave way and he slid to the tub floor. 

                "You bloody wanker," he swore and clenched his eyes shut. The spray of the water in his face mingled with the tears he had yet to realize were falling. The cloud of darkness that always hovered at the edge of his mind, waiting patiently for reminders of the past, rolled towards his helpless mind. He shoved his hands in his hair, pressing his palms to his head in an attempt to silence the mocking laughter echoing in his mind. He always thought of the voice, colder than he had ever been, as the remaining essence of the demon, the shadow of it that had clung to his human soul. Its soul purpose was to shatter his already fractured confidence, bellowing in victory as he was reduced to tears. 

                The rational part of him knew he was being unreasonable, never allowing himself room for forgiveness and without it, he would never be able to move on. That alone would taint his future actions as they would be based on a selfish need to find penance out of guilt and not because it was the right thing to do. Yeah, the rational side knew that with crystal clarity. 

                Too bad his irrational side took up so much brain wattage. 

                "Get it together, Spike," he forced through clenched teeth, "don't want her to have to come in there now do you?" The thought of Buffy finding him, crouched in the shower, was one part frightening and two parts comical. It began with a light chuckle but quickly transformed into a cacophonous laughter that shook his whole body. Spike envisioned Buffy walking in on him, his body quaking in mirth and he only laughed harder. The outrage in her eyes at him using so much water increased his amusement and Spike threw back his head, allowing the laughter to bubble up from the pit of his stomach, barking into the air. He was ignorant of everything around him, including the once hot water spray missiles of cool liquid across his skin. 

                He did not know when the laughter turned to sobs, the gut wrenching, uncontrollable tremors that had rode through him when he had seen her body, lifeless upon the rubble. That had been the first time he failed her and it had cost Buffy her life. The second time, in this very bathroom, he had failed again and was thankful his transgressions had not destroyed her. As it was, she had forgiven him though they had yet to talk about it and put it in the past completely. God help him when it was time for that particular conversation. 

                "Spike?" He heard Buffy's voice filter through his sobs and the beating of the water. 

                "Yes," he croaked and knew she didn't hear him. Forcing himself to stand, Spike rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat before calling out again. 

                "I'm in here, pet," he said, thankful his voice didn't crack. 

                "Are you okay?" She asked and he heard the telltale creak of the door opening. "Because you been in there for awhile now. Thought maybe you got liquefied or something."

                He chuckled at her childlike tone and peaked out from behind the shower curtain, "I'm all right, love," he smiled warmly at her, "all parts solid through." He grinned devilishly at her ruby red blush, his earlier malaise temporarily forgotten, something Buffy's smile had a habit of doing for him. 

                "Well," she stammered, "I uh…I…I was gonna call in a pizza or something, for dinner. You want something?"

                Spike couldn't help breaking out into a toothy grin at her thoughtfulness. "As a matter of fact, pet, see if they have some of those spicy wings." 

                She shook her head but the smile remained. "And I thought you would have outgrown those things, what with a fully-functioning stomach," she said before closing the door before calling over her shoulder, "I don't care if they do have it, no bloomin' onion for you."

                "That's not fair," he called after her. 

                "Too bad," she replied, her voice small through the door. 

                Chuckling to himself, Spike shut off the water and stepped onto the carpet. As he toweled himself off, he couldn't help but marvel at the way the sight of Buffy's upturned lips could wipe the melancholy from his thoughts. Even now, the memory of it was enough to silence the malevolent voice from echoing its scornful sentiments of what he had been and would always be. 

                For now, all that mattered was the glistening of life behind those beautiful hazel eyes. That, and the strength behind them, gave him hope that he would one day forgive himself for that shameful night in this very room. Though he did not know it, that potential forgiveness was what had driven him the past two years. Having Buffy's forgiveness was something he had never thought he would have and even now he did not feel worthy of it. But there was nothing he could do about that now. She had given it and he had no choice but to accept it.  

                 "Guess you're gonna have to get over that one on your own, mate," he said to himself. Of course, the words were easy to say. It was the implementing them that was the difficult part and in his mind, he wasn't sure if he had the strength to get over it. 

***

                _Do not think about the sexy naked guy in the shower. Do not think about the sexy naked guy in the shower is my internal mantra as I force my legs to carry me down the steps. Reaching the bottom, I lean against the banister, forcing myself to breathe evenly, a feat I've never truly been able to master when Spike is around. Even before all the gratuitous sex, he has always been able to get to me, sometimes so deeply that I've been red with anger. It's a wonder that I'm still alive, considering how he is able to throw me off kilter. Of course, not to brag, but I'm pretty sure I have the same effect on him except he's much better at masking his reactions. _

                "Well, that's what happens when you don't blush," I sigh to the air and run a hand through my hair. God, my nerves are shot, and I try to control the all too familiar pulsating vibe in my lower belly. And to think, not thirty minutes ago, I was seriously contemplating a double homicide. Now? I'm nothing but a big gob of overworked hormones that needs a nice piece of…

                "Pizza!" I exclaim to myself, cutting a particularly lewd thought off at the pass. Not like I haven't seen him naked before…

                "Okay," my voice is hollow in my ears and I squeeze my eyes shut, "there will be no more thinking of Spike in all his naked glory." That's right, Buff, no thinking of the corded muscles of his arm or the detailed cut of his abs…"Pizza," I repeat and scurry over to the phone, dialing the number before I have a chance to get lost in thoughts about boarding the Spike train. 

                "Oh my God," I say in disbelief, "I did not just say 'board the Spike train'." I lower my head in frustration only to have my eyes bulge when I get a response on the other line. 

                "Uh, ma'am," the wary voice says into my ear, "I don't know what you're looking for, but this is the Pizza Palace--King of All your Pizza desires…" he trails off, uncertain in how to continue. I laugh bitterly to myself before placing the order. Before I hang up, I hear the guy joke about hoping that I catch my 'Spike train' before it leaves the station. As I hang up the phone and plop down on the couch, my initial laughter at pizza guy's barb suddenly turns uncomfortably sober as I ponder his words. Is he right? If I'm too late, if I can't decide what I want right away, will Spike leave again? Will another man leave me out in the cold?

                Before self-pity can get the best of me, I think about Garrett in all this. It's not like I'm really being fair to him, either. I mean he's a big part of why I'm in the place that I am. Up until a month and a half ago, I was content with settling down with him, raising a family but, like a thunderbolt, the doubt just shoved its way into my mind. I have to wonder how, after a year together, I go to sleep one night, content on where my life is heading and wake up the next morning doubting that very same commitment. To be truthful, I don't think it was something that just flashed into my mind but a slow erosion of Buffy's old defenses, seeing things and people without my original preconceived notions of what was right and what was wrong. Then again, maybe it was the lack of closure between me and Spike that I craved, the idea of seeing him one more time, him forgiving me and vice versa. Maybe after we clear the air completely, everything will right itself and I can continue my life with Garrett. Maybe we can get married and move away from here, raise a family. That's always been my dream and I'm so close to having it that it aches for me not to grab it and hold on to it. 

                But then again, what if, after we do our penance that I truly do want to be with Spike? What if I realize that I've wanted to be with him since the beginning but was too scared to admit it?  But what if he doesn't think that? What if he doesn't feel that me loving him now is enough? That I screwed it up before, pounding his feelings into the ground and I don't deserve another chance. Or what if he doesn't love me anymore?

                My throat constricts involuntarily at the thought of not having Spike's love and I bury my head into the pillow. For the past year, when I could think about Spike without conjuring images of the bathroom, my biggest fear was finding him and finding out that he didn't love me anymore and now that he's here…He's different, there is no question about that. He's still Spike, no doubt, with the same smoldering smirk, the same throaty laughter and glint of life in those electric eyes. But there is something that is missing that I can't put my finger on. Don't get me wrong, it's not something bad and, to be honest, it's more along the lines of an addition more so than a deficiency. And it's that addition that frightens me. What if in gaining his humanity and soul that he lost his love for me? What if it was the demon all along that loved the slayer and not the man? Wouldn't that be ironic; I spurn him because he's a soulless demon and find out that the demon was what loved me. A part of me thinks that would be a fitting punishment for me while the other part argues that I was justified, that he was a demon. Didn't his actions prove that? 

                My head is a jumble of thoughts that will not die and I bury my head further into the pillows. The sting behind my eyes has broken through and my tears are crushed against the fabric of the pillow while the same material mutes my sobs. I had told Spike earlier that I was a brand new Buffy, one that did not judge as harshly or stare at the world with blinders laced to the sides of my head. But as I cry, I can't help but to feel like I've lied to him. I'm not a new woman at all. I'm the same scared little girl he left two years ago except I hide behind the mask of not being Ms. High and Mighty. That does not change what I truly am and the fact that I still have yet to grow up. 

                My last thought as I drift off into sleep is that Spike was right for not coming back. He was right that he didn't deserve me. Seeing the changes in him first hand are proof enough for that. What he deserves is a real woman, a strong woman, not some little girl and her insecurities. And all I can offer him is the latter. He deserves so much more than that. 

                The funny thing is, I think he always has.  

**

                I don't know if it's the distant aroma of food wafting through the air or the invigorating coolness pressed against the back of my neck that awakens me but I stir nonetheless and my lips curve into an anticipating smile. Back to my senses, the scent of cheese and pepperoni and spicy wings is even stronger and my stomach lurches in protest of its emptiness. It gurgles loudly and the soft chuckle near my ear alerts me that I am not alone. And considering the cool towel draped across my neck, my bets are on a certain ex-vampire with killer cheekbones and abs to die for is the source of the welcome ministrations. 

                "You should get paid for this," I mumble into the pillow. I can feel him smile warmly as his deft fingers alternate between rubbing my neck with the cool towel and kneading the muscles between my shoulder blades. 

                "Well," he says and leans down closer to me. The warmth of his breath against my skin couples with the amazing smell of his cologne, driving me wild and, for the umpteenth time today, my hormones spike through the roof. "There are just some things I happen to be good at, luv," his voice sizzles in my ear and I force my body to remain still, not trusting myself in the least. 

                "That you are," I respond, so proud that my voice remains even. For the most part, that is. 

                Sensing my growing excitement, Spike's hand travels the length of my spine before he stands and my body cries from the loss of contact. Still, I am thankful for the space. Now, with a few controlled breathing techniques, maybe I can get my heart rate under the current marathon of three hundred beats a minute it seems to be running at. 

                I sit up slowly, keeping my eyes closed for the moment before letting out a terrifically unladylike yawn, complete with the stretching out of all four of my limbs. After a few minutes of removing the kinks, I finally part my eyelids, thankful for the dim lighting. I peek out the windows and notice that darkness is beginning its methodical emergence as ruler of the night. I sigh tiredly, knowing that I will have to go patrolling later before rubbing my sleep-filled eyes with the back of my hand. I notice Spike watching me and note that his nose looks suspiciously normal, considering its untimely meeting with Xander's fist earlier. I wonder about it but file it away for later questioning. Instead, I peek at him with one eye while I wrangle the itch out of the other one. 

                "What are you looking at?" I ask good-naturedly. His smile dissipates and his eyes fill with concern and sympathy. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion as he walks back over to me and kneels in front of me. He reaches out and touches the curve of my cheek, his eyes following some invisible tracks left on my skin.        

                "You were crying," he says and I shudder at the distance and pain that filters his words mingle with the gentleness of his fingertips caressing my face. In that moment of seeing him like this, gracing me with the same look he had that first night I had come back, the shame of how I treated him slams into me and I can only bow my head, unable to look at him. 

                His palm cups my cheek and he gently forces my chin up with his other hand. I steel myself for what I had seen a few moments before, and when I do gaze into those blue pools of emotion, I see at least one of my doubts being torn asunder for the smoldering heat of his gaze is saturated with unbridled love. My throat tightens and the tears again threaten to spill though I hold them at bay and, miraculously keep my eyes locked with his. Each second passes by like an hour and I feel the heat of some unknown emotion burning a hole through my belly ten times over and my chest constricts almost painfully. Almost as quickly as it comes, the moment is gone and I am left to contemplate it but first I must get past his all encompassing stare. 

                "Yeah," I say to him, my voice small and I realize that one of my hands is resting on his knee. 

                "What's wrong, luv?" His voice is so soft that I just have the overwhelming urge to wrap it around me like a blanket and sleep indefinitely in its warmth. 

                "Nothing, I…" but the lie never leaves the hanger as I take in the truthful depths of his countenance and decide that I can't lie to him. Hell, even if I wanted to, he'd smell it out from a mile away. But at the same time, I don't think I can spill right now. It's bad enough that I want to jump his recently alive bones and am having a hard time not doing so. An influx of emotions that would come from said confession of my insecurities would only weaken my already tenuous resolve and you don't have to be a genius to figure out just where that would lead…

                "It's…I'm just having a hard time dealing with things, you know?" I rub at my eyes in frustration, willing the tears back once again though I'm on the verge of losing this particular struggle. 

                "S'alright, luv," he whispers to me before kissing me on the forehead and turning towards the table. I peek out from under my hand like a child, amazed at his display of kindness and insight. The kiss was simple enough and it didn't cause me to crumble like the feel of his solid arms around my frame would have. I don't know what it is, but he continues to amaze me and probably will for as long as he's in my life. 

                "We can chat it out later," he explains and cuts into the pizza on the table. He takes a huge slice and flops it onto a plate, offering it to me. I nod but before I can speak I shove half of it in my mouth and I almost choke when he gives me this look of utter fascination. 

                He looks me up and down before shaking his head and cutting his own slice and says, "Bloody amazing that you stay so small and eat like that." This time I do choke and in my coughing fit, I fire a leftover pepperoni strip onto his shirt. 

                "Bloody hell, woman," he yells, " The pizza is supposed to _remain in your mouth. That's the basic gist behind eating, you know!" The consternation etching his features sets me off into a fit of giggles and when he glares at me, ice picks in his eyes, I only laugh harder. It isn't long before a bemused smile slides lazily across his features and I hear him mumble under his breath, "If I didn't love you so bloody much…" before daintily swiping at the pizza sauce on his shirt. _

                I can't help but beam at his words and again I am amazed at what Spike can do in one simple gesture. He has carried me in two minutes from mopey to giggly with minimal effort and words aren't enough to thank him for that. I was heading to an ugly place of self doubt and fear and though I am a long way from making sense of this jumble that's in my mind, Spike has unknowingly helped me bridge a gap I would never have been able to conquer alone. He's done it before, after I came back and though I've thanked him for it, I really don't think he will ever grasp the depths of my gratitude. I just wish I knew how to express it to him. 

***

                "Spike," Buffy yelled, her arms flailing about, her deft fingers clawing over his body yet he didn't relent. Instead, he navigated around the living room, narrowly avoiding the shoes and shirt carelessly thrown into a pile in the middle of the floor. 

                "C'mon, Slayer," he teased, "You've pled your case better than that." He watched as her skin flushed at the comment and was almost undone when she poked her lip out but she gave herself away. The light shone off her hazel eyes and the naughtiness behind them was unmistakable. _So you wanna play, huh? He thought to himself and slipped on his conceding face. _

                "Okay, luv, you want it?" 

                "Yes," she said shyly, batting her eyes and he was a hairs breadth away from relenting again. 

                "How bad do you want it?"  He couldn't resist running his tongue over his lips and stifled a chuckle when she gasped visibly, her eyes hypnotized by the snake-like movements of his pink member as it darted back and forth. 

                "Real bad," she whispered, not even sure what she was talking about anymore. Spike finally let his smirk out but Buffy was too transfixed by his lips to notice. With one step, he halved already short distance between them and her breasts brushed across his chest and he bit his lip to strengthen his resolve. The motion of his teeth against the soft flesh of him bottom lip had Buffy licking her own in anticipation. 

                "So," Spike said, his eyes roaming the planes of her face, resting on the inexact perfection of her lips. "Where do you want it?" He managed, though he, too, had forgotten what they were talking about. 

                "Right here," she responded and her hands trailed along the corded lines of his raised arms until he lowered them enough for her to grab him around the wrists. He conceded to her directions and lowered his arms, his body painfully aware of their proximity to one another. He was vaguely aware of his slayer raising up on her toes and he slowly cocked his head to the side, awaiting the promise of touching those heavenly lips. 

                Buffy was hesitant in her actions, not sure how they had gotten to this. They had spent the past forty-five minutes eating pizza and wings, talking amicably while they watched Fox Friday night with _Firefly kicking off at eight. They had joked throughout the whole show and Buffy marveled at Spike who was in rare form. At the end of the show, Spike had snatched the remote, threatening to make Buffy miss not only the preview for next week's season finale but also the beginning of the two part __John Doe cliffhanger. That had been precisely three minutes ago and television was the furthest thing from her mind. _

                _Cor, she's beautiful, Spike marveled in awe. He dared not speak lest he break the spell they had been caught in for the past sixty seconds. The former vampire stiffened (in more than one place) when he felt Buffy's petite hands on his hips and he instinctively nudged them forward into her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips ever so slightly and he opened his hands to caress the sweet curves of her hips that called to him through her thin Capri pants. Of course, he needed to drop the remote and did so without a second thought…_

                "Oww!" Buffy screeched before pushing Spike away and hopping on one foot. The bewildered Brit staggered before regaining his balance and stared at the hopping slayer incredulously. 

                "What the bloody hell is your problem?" He asked a little more curtly than he would have liked. The fact that she had almost pushed him to the floor coupled with his raging hard-on had clouded Spike's mind and his tongue ran with the ball. 

                Buffy was none too pleased with his flippant tone and glared into him with intents to set him aflame. Her hands were planted on her hips and her shoulders tensed and she looked ready for battle, even if she was still balanced on one foot, the other rubbing against the back of her calf. 

                "What. Did. You. Say?" She spat and dared him to get an attitude. Spike noticed this and favored a tactical retreat, the smartest move he could make. 

                "I asked what was wrong," he reiterated, his tone much more placating as he held his hands up in surrender. 

                "What is wrong?" She asked in disbelief. "What is wrong?" She stalked, more like hobbled, over to him and stop mere inches from his face. "You know that silver thing I was trying to get from you, changes channels?"  
                "The remote…"

                "Yeah, the remote," she interrupted and snorted, blowing a strand of hair from her face. 

                "What about it?" He asked, a little annoyed at her slayer 'tude. 

                "Nothing…except that you used it as a miniature anvil and dropped it on my toe!" She finished the tirade yelling, and lifted her foot up for Spike to see. 

                Spike was taken by surprise at Buffy's vehemence and dexterity alike, though he shouldn't have been surprised on either front. _Especially the dexterity, mate, he reminisced to himself, __like that time she…but the mere thought of that particular romp in the crypt even had the former vampire flush in embarrassment. _

                "What?" She demanded, noticing his blush. 

                "Nothin', luv," he stammered, "nothing at all." But Spike quickly regained his composure and refitted his face with a patented smirk. "But I am sorry about that."

                "Yeah, I'll bet," she huffed and motioned to put her foot down. 

                "Not yet, luv," he said demurely and slid to one knee, cupping her delicate foot in his hand.

                "What are you doing?" she demanded though the crack in her voice prevented it from sounding authoritative. 

                "I made a boo-boo," he said and cut his eyes towards her, "and I intend to fix it." Before Buffy could protest, she felt Spike's warm lips against her pinkie and she swooned, barely maintaining her balance. 

                Spike smiled as he brushed his lips across Buffy's toe though inside he was a wreck of emotions. The taste of her skin, the waves of arousal beating off of her was almost unbearable. He may not have been a vampire, but he still could read when Buffy wanted him and boy, did she want him now!

                _Can't do it, a prying voice whispered into his head. __Why the bloody hell not? The sexually flustered part of him countered. __Because, his inner voice responded with the calm of a saint, __what if you were Garrett? The thought of the man with whom he had loosely bonded with earlier was akin to dropping him into Arctic waters and Spike stood hurriedly. Of course, Buffy wasn't quite ready for the rapid change in position and was tipped over, her hands flailing wildly to no avail. She landed on her butt, cursing the floor and all male ex-vampires with eternal torment for the rest of their short days. _

                "Sorry," Spike said sheepishly, still wincing at both thoughts of Garrett as well as the highly agitated slayer looking up at him.  

                "Yeah, whatever," she said dryly and stood. One hand picked up the remote while the other rubbed her stinging butt. She ignored Spike's prying eyes that glared longingly at the ministrations of her hand massaging her bruised fanny. 

                "You know," he drawled, "I could do that."

                "Yeah and you could also walk directly into the path of a very large truck," she spat and stalked over the couch, once again mentally cursing all male ex-Master vampires from London to suffer eternally. So lost in her internal rant that she forgot her newly scarred butt and plopped onto the couch and winced at the dull ache. Ignoring Spike's pleading eyes, she tucked her good foot underneath her and threw an arm casually across her abdomen while the other held the remote and flipped back to Fox. 

                "Buffy," Spike said, finally taking a seat next to her, "I really am sorry."

                The slayer stole a glance at the genuinely apologetic Spike before rolling her eyes and returning her attention back to her program. 

                "What does it take with you," he huffed and crossed his arms angrily before slinking further down into the couch next to her. 

                Buffy fought back a grin thinking about the unlikely situation. The Chosen One and her former mortal enemy/ally/friend/lover/former vampire/friend-again sitting on the couch pouting like two five year olds. Life was strange. Life was strange indeed. 

***

                "We can call it quits for the night after this," Buffy said, nudging her patrol partner. They had been patrolling for three hours and had come across a handful of fledglings but no major baddies. Buffy's curiosity as to Spike's physical prowess had yet to be satisfied as the former Big Bad had opted out of the routine stakings, joking about his 'new found' humanity being an impediment to his fighting. But she could see through the smirks and barbs that he was nervous about something though she didn't know what. And she wouldn't ask. Yet. 

                Spike nodded his assent. "You're the boss, luv," he smirked. 

                "Darn tootin'," Buffy agreed and on his amused look explained, "sorry 'bout that. Was channeling Wills there for a minute." Spike gave her a genuine chuckle before turning towards Buffy. 

                "And how is Red doin' these days?" Buffy smiled at Spike's nickname for Willow before filling him in on things she had not told him on their way back to Sunnydale. 

                Though she was still in school, due to her nine-month hiatus in Bath, Willow was still as active as ever. She wasn't quite as upbeat as she used to be but in that place was an experience and maturity that, aside from Giles, had not been present in the Scoobies. She had learned to control her magick, using the energies of the Earth instead of the dark powers she had invoked before. No longer did she use her powers for the mundane, but only when necessary. The Coven she had been to ingrained within her with a sense of self-discipline that even Buffy had trouble grasping. It was a necessary tool for Willow to temper the potentially lethal combination of her near limitless powers, scarring grief and weighing guilt. It had taken all of the Scoobies to help Willow reintegrate and even Dawn, who still hadn't totally gotten over Willow's threat to her, had been instrumental in assisting the Wicca get her close to her usual Willow-self. 

                "She misses you, you know," Buffy said after a few moments of silence. 

                "Who? Red?" He asked in surprise. 

                "Yeah." Buffy elbowed him playfully. "Why? Don't think you're important enough to admit?" He didn't respond but she knew the answer as his head slumped slightly. Buffy snaked her arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulders. 

                "You know, you really need to get over this bad image of yourself, Spike," she said seriously before pulling away. 

                Spike shrugged and ran a hand through his tousled sandy brown locks. "S'not like you Scoobs have ever…"

                "She missed you," Buffy interrupted and her tone brokered no argument. "To be honest, you were sorta like Tara. You told me the truth but at the same time, listened to me rant and rave. Now you may not have had her excellent bedside manner," he chuckled at that, "but you knew…you know how to listen to people and sift through all their b.s. To get to the real problem. Don't underestimate your importance to us." 

                Spike stopped at that and turned towards Buffy, his eyes glistening in the moonlight. 

                "My importance, Buffy, to 'us' as in the Scoobies or to 'us' as in you?" His cerulean eyes searched hers and Buffy found it difficult not to fold under his gaze. An intense warmth suffused through her and she found herself pulled to him. Her mouth worked furiously, attempting to formulate a response though all she could do was whet her lips continuously with her darting tongue. 

                "Spike…" she began but was roughly thrown to the ground by the ex-vampire. 

                "Sorry, luv," he called before jumping onto the ax-wielding demon. It was about seven feet tall, but not bulky like other demons. It had a lithe build though the strength was obvious in the cut of its corded muscles. It was decked out in very thin chain main, its three eyes burning a bright orange color, a direct contrast to its dark purple skin tone. 

The demon swung the ax towards Spike's midsection but he stepped into the arch of the swing, grabbing the inside of the handle. For one moment, demon and former demon were at a stalemate, though Spike quickly found that, despite gaining speed he could only have dreamed about as a vampire, he was not quite as strong. The demon took advantage of its superior leverage and strength, hoisting Spike off his feet by the lapels of his jacket while it ripped the ax from his grasp. 

                Undaunted, Spike lashed out with a vicious kick, connecting solidly with the demon's jaw, causing it to drop him. It recovered much quicker than he expected and, as he hit the ground, it spun counter clockwise to him, the ax whistling through the air intent on beheading the oblivious man. 

                As he rose to get up, Spike was tackled to the ground and felt the whoosh of air pass overhead. The weight that had barged into him removed itself from his back and it took him a second to catch his breath. All the while, he heard the telltale grunts and groans of a fight in progress. Focusing his energies inwardly, Spike shot to his feet and was taken aback at the sight before him. 

                There, in all her beautiful splendor, dressed in all black, was Buffy. He was captivated by the grace and power of her moves, only once catching a glimpse of the unbridled fury sparkling in her hazel eyes before her head turned in a flurry of blonde hair and bad intentions. She caught the demon with a spinning jump kick to the jaw and followed up with a hook to the ribs. Grabbing its right wrist, she smashed her knee into its elbow and the sickening crunch of bone and the creature bellowed in pain. 

                "Oh, we're not done yet," she quipped before slamming her heel into the back of the demon's knee, sending it to the ground. Wasting no time, she maneuvered behind it and took its bulbous head in her hands before wrenching it violently to the right. 

                "Bravo, luv," Spike applauded, sauntering up to Buffy. He stopped abruptly when he saw the same fury she had displaced upon the demon aimed at him. "Uh, Buffy?" He asked cautiously and that was when she erupted. 

                "What the hell was that?!"

                "What?" He asked, his tone defensive. 

                "That," She waved between him and the demon. "You jumped in there like you used to with no regard for the opponent." 

                "I was bloody well trying to save your sodding _life,_" he retorted, his brow scrunched in annoyance. 

                "You could have been killed," she said, her voice small. But he didn't hear the concern in her voice. 

                "Last time I checked, Slayer, vampires can die just as rightly as humans." 

                Her fear was buried under a landslide of anger when she saw the sneer firmly entrenched on his face. "Yeah, but last time I checked, _Will-yum, _vamps can be pretty much brained by an ax and be no worse for wear." 

                "So you don't think I can take care of myself?" He asked incredulously. 

                "Not if do stupid things like that," she replied, crossing her arms. 

                "Bloody hell, Slayer, I think surviving one hundred and twenty years, much of its youth spent with the likes of Angelus and Darla puts me in a class of being able to take care of my bloody self."

                "And how many of those formative years were spent as a member of the living?" She countered snidely. 

                "God, Buffy," he yelled and pulled at his sandy brown shock of hair in frustration.  "In case you haven't noticed by my mostly healed broken nose, I'm not your run of the mill mortal. You don't have to baby me like I'm some Captain Cardboard clone. Hell, if you treated him like this, it's no wonder that he…" Spike's eyes went wide and he trailed off, horrified at what he was about to say. But it was too late. 

                Buffy felt like a stake had been shoved into her chest and she experienced what it must be like for the vampires she dusted. The difference was that they only had to withstand the pain for a moment before they were ash. She, on the other hand, was still standing though how, by what miracle of God, she didn't know. 

                "Buffy…" Spike reached out for her, his voice deep with regret. 

                The touch of his hand jolted her out of her momentary paralysis and she jerked away, unbidden tears clinging to her cheeks. She could see the regret and love in his eyes but her senses were too overloaded with pain to process it all. So she did what she did best. 

                She shoved him to the ground and ran. 

                "Balls," Spike swore and jumped to his feet. "Buffy," he called out to the retreating form before taking off after her. 

                The sound of her name only made Buffy run faster and, though her legs were carrying her as fast as they could, the voice seemed to be getting closer. She dared not look back, afraid that if she did, her resolve would falter. She had to get away from him and fast. Spike may have changed but he still could hurt her with his callous words more than anyone she had ever known and she wasn't strong enough to take that pain again, no matter who was by her side. 

                Spike was aware of the burn in his lungs but he shoved the feeling down. Buffy had had a giant head start but he had already cut into by over half. _One thing good about whatever I am is that I'm bloody fast, _he thought absently, hurdling a tombstone. Even in his distress, he marveled at the grace with which Buffy ran with. Her hair bounced against the back of her black vest and was a beacon in the dark night, calling to him to run his fingers through it and tell her it would be alright. 

                _But will it? Be alright? _A voice questioned. Spike knew by the look in Buffy's eyes that he fucked up royally, his words voicing her biggest fear about letting someone into her heart. He had changed so much over the past two years with the addition of the soul and such, but that did not prevent the hurtful vampire personality to rear its ugly head every so often. Spike was never one for good timing and discounting the whole bathroom scene this had to have been the worst slip in his entire existence. 

                The thought of what he had almost done to Buffy that night quickened his pace while compounding his guilt. Were it not for his desperation in talking to her, he would have fallen to the ground and curled into a ball of guilt and shame, but there was no time for that. He had to catch her. 

                Narrowing his eyes, he watched Buffy dart behind a mausoleum and adjusted his route, knowing just where to be to cut her off. But when he reached the spot she would have run out off, there was nothing there. 

                "Bloody hell," he grunted, his eyes frantically searching the darkness for Buffy's petite form. He wanted to call out to her but his voice was already horse from yelling her name during the chase. There was no point; he had lost her.

                "And not just for tonight, mate," he murmured, realizing that with his ill-timed words he had ensured that they would be nothing more than friends, providing she could forgive him for what he had just said. 

                Dejected, the leather clad man turned to walk back to Revello Drive until he heard the faintest sound, a whispering sob carried on the dark winds of the night. He instantly recognized it as Buffy though he had to concentrate to pinpoint her position. When he finally did, he made cautious steps toward to the sound, which led him to the mausoleum she had run behind. He was tempted to call her name but was afraid she'd run so his followed the sound, mindful of his steps. As he turned around the corner, he saw her small body crouched behind a pillar at the entrance of the structure. Tears pricked at his eyes, and the pang of guilt rampaged like an uncaged beast within him and he fought to keep it from consuming him. 

                "Buffy," he whispered as he knelt down beside her. Gone was the powerful, fiery slayer—replaced by a scared little girl whose worst fears hounded her with the tenacity of a vampire in bloodlust. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her arms were wrapped protectively around her. She stared out into space, the tears freely falling from her eyes and Spike wanted nothing more than to fold her into his arms and coo her to sleep with promises of better things. 

                "Buffy," he said again and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. She shook her head and stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time before she scrambled to her feet, wiping the tears away roughly with the sleeve of her shirt. Without a word, she walked past him, her body rigid, trying desperately to hold it together. _He will not see me cry anymore, _she promised herself. Buffy was strong by nature and the slayer in her had only increased that strength. Though she had done it before, she hated to been looked at as weak and crying—well, crying was a sign of weakness. Or at least in this case it was. 

                The funny thing was that Buffy never felt self-conscious about it in front of Spike. Even with Willow she felt like a little girl crying but with Spike—with Spike, she had always felt like a woman, allowed to let her softer side reign free, her insecurities and fears flooding out in a rush of tears. He had always understood, never placating her with false words. His presence alone was all the comfort that she needed. And now, for him to use her deepest of fears against her like that…

                Buffy gasped as she was spun around by powerful arms and gazed into desperate yet determined eyes. 

                "Now are you gonna listen to me?" Spike asked, his grip on her arms tightening ever so slightly on his words. 

                "Get. Off. Of. Me," she whispered though the venom in her tone was unmistakable. Not wanting it to escalate, Spike acquiesced, dropping his arms to his side. 

                "Fine, but will you at least listen?" Buffy's eyes widened and she laughed bitterly. 

                "Listen to what?" She asked sarcastically, her arms crossing over her breasts. "Listen to you show no gratitude when someone shows concern for you or saves your life? Or did you want me to be all ears as you berate my lack of successful relationships where I drive them away? Or maybe you want to gloat about Garrett leaving me, too. Hell, you'd probably be right. I mean, the only thing I do better than driving men away is preventing apocalypses. Or maybe…" but Spike was tired of listening and did the only thing Buffy had ever found to shut him up. 

                He kissed her. 

                The kiss was not gentle yet it was not bruising, either. Better, it was an illustrious blend of both, their lips touching lightly as their tongues battled fiercely for dominance. Spike's hands were not his own as they drifted towards her hips pulling her against his lithe frame and her hands fisted in his hair. But as soon as it had begun, Buffy pushed him away. 

                She put her hand to her lips and Spike was reminded of a time when he had dreamed of her—the first time he realized that he was in love with the slayer. That dream may have ended with him waking in a panic, but the dream itself had ended on a more positive note. This, however, by the looks of things, would not. 

                In truth, he had been surprised at how quickly she had recovered from the initial shock and pressed her lips to his, showcasing an identical eagerness. She had moaned into his mouth as his hands roamed over her hips and the curve of her butt and for a moment, all was forgotten. 

                But now, as their panted breaths permeated the air, everything came back to Spike in a fury. 

                "Buffy," he whispered, staring into her hazel eyes that were glazed with desire and shock. "Buffy, I'm…" 

                "Don't," she warned, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't you dare say you're sorry." 

                "I…" but he couldn't find the words and, instead, dropped his head in shame. The tears that had been kept in abeyance began to spill from his eyes and he was having trouble keeping his balance. He thought what he had said fucked things up but kissing her…well that had been on the far side of stupid. _Guess it's what I deserve, _he thought sullenly and turned to leave. But, evidently, Buffy had other ideas. 

                "Bloody hell," he heard Buffy say before she whirled him around, crushing her lips to his.    

***TBC 

***If you have questions or comments, please leave your email addy in the review so I can respond. Thanks. 


	11. Part XI

Do What You Have To Do

Part XI

The midnight winds blew across the Sunnydale night, the coolness licking at the skin of the two former lovers, who remained unaware of the goosebumps dimpling their flesh. Their attention was singular in its focus, intent upon the warm feel of lips and tongues melding as one. In their minds, the world had fallen away, leaving Buffy and Spike as the only two inhabitants. 

To Buffy, the solitude of kissing Spike was familiar yet distinctly foreign. As her hands roamed up and down the expanse of his back, kneading his hard muscles through his jacket, her mind wandered to the parallels of their previous couplings. The way he made her feel now, as if she were the only person in the world, was no different than when she had gone to him all those years ago just to feel. Though his flesh was warm, the way his hands roamed over her body and his hardness pressing against her stomach lit the same desire within her core that it always had. And just like before, she wanted nothing more than for him to fill her up completely, tripling the heat of her core with stroke after stroke. 

For Spike, the arousal that had always snaked through him at the slightest scent of Buffy was in full swing. Two years and humanity hadn't dampened the hunger he had always felt for her. If anything, he wanted her more than ever, though he couldn't fathom how that was possible. His hands blazed along her petite body, appreciating the familiar feel of her curves. There was no part of her that he had not committed to memory and the feel of her against him was as natural as it was for him to breathe. 

"Spike," Buffy moaned into the kiss when his hands cupped the bottom of her ass. Spike managed not to smile as she wiggled against his hands. She jumped into his body, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The momentum caused him to stumble but he quickly regained his balance. The erotic position only fueled the desire between the two and they kissed with an even greater tenacity as their hands explored one another even more greedily. 

Buffy barely registered the coolness of the stone as Spike backed her into the wall of the mausoleum though she shivered in anticipation as Spike's hands furthered their ministrations and one stealthily maneuvered between her legs. Her tongue lashed at his with an even greater fervor and her hips ground against his fingers that rubbed her through the fabric of her jeans. 

Spike's lungs burned at the lack of oxygen though he pushed the thought from his mind. His only concern was the burgeoning passion pulsating between them. He continued stroking at the heat given off from Buffy's core, her arousal intensifying his need. 

"God, Buffy," he moaned at their lips separated momentarily, "I love you so much," and his lips devoured hers once more. 

Buffy barely had time to take in air before Spike's lips were on her. She clawed at his back, wishing desperately for more contact with his skin though not wanting to pull away. His hand continued its purposeful mission to stimulate her and the building pressure in her lower abdomen slowly filter down to her more intimate parts. Her hips gyrated in sync with his prodding fingertips, anxious for her release. She moaned in disappointment when Spike broke the kiss but it was forgotten when Spike nipped at the flesh just above her jugular.

When they had been together before, Spike's teeth at her neck sent shivers of fear down her spine. It was the uncertainty of it all that aroused her. Though Spike loved her, he was still a vampire and Buffy was never sure that his love for her would override his primal instincts to take her blood that called out to him. It was an automatic stimulant for orgasm when he bit down on her neck, just hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to draw blood. 

Tonight was no different. 

Buffy screamed Spike's name as her body spasmed uncontrollably against his hand, her heat burning through the fabric to his palm. Spike silenced the convulsing slayer with a languid kiss, massaging his tongue against hers while his hands gently caressed her hips. He pulled away from the kiss and though Buffy's hands were tangled in his brown locks, she did not pull him forward. Instead, she stared into his cerulean eyes and Spike saw the still smoldering flame of desire behind her hazel jewels. But as he peered deeper into her gaze, he saw something else, something he had sworn he'd seen two years ago, something that he had wanted so desperately for her to admit the night he had almost…

Reality slammed into him and the intimacy of the situation sent a wave of nausea and disgust through the former vampire. With preternatural swiftness, Spike pushed away from Buffy and the slayer barely had time to brace her fall with her hands. 

"What the hell?" she cried, rubbing her tailbone that had thumped ungraciously against the concrete. She turned fiery eyes toward Spike though they immediately cooled at the site of the former vamp. 

"I…I," he stammered, his oceanic blue eyes filled with unshed tears. Buffy watched Spike's chest heaved uncontrollably, his eyes wide in terror. Buffy ignored the pain in her lower back and walked cautiously over to her distraught friend. 

"Spike," she said gently, her hand tentatively reaching for his trembling hand. He stood there, his eyes staring at her though Buffy doubted that he actually saw her. When her fingers touched his, he jerked away as if scalded and brought his hands up in front of him. 

"Don't," he pled, "I'm a monster. Just stay away, please, stay away," he choked though the words were lost as he dissolved into tears. Buffy took advantage of Spike's distress, pushing his hands down and held them at his side. He put up a token resistance before collapsing his weight on her and Buffy barely had time to adjust to him. Placing her hands around his neck, she lowered them both to the ground as Spike clung to her waist in desperation.

"Shhh, lover," she cooed, as she stroked the back of his head, her own tears falling despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. "It's okay, William, it's okay." She sighed when he began to relax and she almost purred when his hands started massaging her lower back. 

"Buffy fall down go boom," he whispered, his voice muffled by her hair. Before she could pull away, Spike poked her in the side and she jumped out of his grasp. She pushed him away none too gently and he chuckled on his back. 

"You think that's funny?" She demanded, standing over him, hands on her hips. 

"Well," he replied, his eyes staring up at the stars or the trees--anything but her. "You did do the whole 'eek' thing, love. And the look on your face; priceless." 

"Well Mr. Sunshine," she scolded before her eyes lit with a childlike impishness, "If you think that is funny, you're gonna love…THIS!" And without further preamble, the slayer pounced on the unsuspecting Spike, knocking the air out of him. But she didn't give him time to catch his breath, instead attacking his ribcage with prodding fingers. 

Spike was at a disadvantage and he knew it. It wasn't just the lack of oxygen that had him defenseless but the feel of the slayer straddling him that put all counter attacks on hold. 

"Give up?" Buffy asked as her fingers danced across his ribs and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at the wriggling form beneath her. Though she was having fun, she was stalling, hesitant to prod him about his breakdown and even more apprehensive at discussing what had just happened between them. _Of course, straddling the guy that just brought you to orgasm may not be the best way to break the ice, genius. _Her inner voice scolded. Buffy agreed and moved to get off but as she dropped her guard, Spike sat up, seizing her by the hips. 

"Going somewhere, Slayer?" He asked and Buffy needed nothing more than to look into the tumultuous storm of his eyes to pick up his returning desire. That and the deliciously stiff member that rubbed against her ass. 

"Spike," she gasped though he had made no motion to stimulate her. His scarred eyebrow raised in amusement and his hands slid up and down her hips. 

"That's my name, pet," he replied, cocking his head to the side. Buffy could hardly resist the sly grin that spread across his lips and, if she weren't paying attention, she would have missed the dried tear tracks along his cheeks. 

"What happened?" she queried, her desire forgotten as her concern for Spike's earlier condition returned. 

The mischief drained from Spike's face and he immediately lowered his head in shame. "Nothing," he replied and Buffy had to strain to hear him even this close. She sighed, knowing she would have to be quite the persistent slayer if she wanted to get any answers from him. 

She stood, brushing the dirt from her pants before offering a hand to Spike. He took it, though his eyes never lifted from the ground as she helped him up. 

"Come on," she said and started through the cemetery, never letting go of his hand. 

Spike said nothing as they wove their way through the tombstones. Though he was not looking forward to her questions, he took comfort in the warmth of her hand in his. His mind wondered as he followed her. Not ten minutes ago, they had been on the verge of--of what, he didn't know--but they were on the verge of it. After two years of not seeing her, to kiss and touch her like that was too much to ask for, let alone do. But he had done it, had brought her over the edge and the sight of her eyes, dark with anticipation of more had been too much for him. Part of him had wanted nothing more than to taste her essence before immersing himself into her warmth. The other part of him, however, was disgusted that he would even touch her like that, not caring that she initiated it. He had had to get away from her lest he convince himself that he actually deserved anything more than her friendship. 

_But you do, _came the argument from his more rational side of thought, _she's forgiven you. Remember? _The trouble was, though he knew forgiveness was something he ultimately needed, he wasn't so sure that he deserved it so soon. 

Spike was broken from his reverie when Buffy came to a halt and he walked into her. 

"Clumsy much?" she scolded though her lips twitched into a smile and Spike returned the gesture and absently scratched at the back of his head. 

"Just playin' 'follow the leader', pet. Wasn't expectin' to stop so soon," he noticed where they were and his eyes scrunched in confusion, "or to stop for a visit at my once humble abode." She quirked an eyebrow at his bewilderment and waved her hand at the surroundings. 

"Well, no one expects the unexpected." 

"What? Watcher-Man teach you that one?" 

"No," she muttered and suddenly found her shoes quite interesting, "I heard it in a song when I was in high school." 

__

"And my that be from the Aged Wisdom of the Backstreet Boys? No, wait. Must be Britney." He chuckled at the look of horror on her face. 

"You are _so _off base with that one. Britney? Don't you think that I have at least a shred of dignity? Don't answer that," she ordered and slapped him in the arm when he waggled an eyebrow at her. Shaking her head, Buffy studied the side of the crypt, taking in its height. After a moment of silent analysis she turned to Spike while bracing her hands against the cool stone of the monument. 

"Boost me up." Spike looked at her skeptically and with a hint of mischief in his eyes and Buffy blushed, and shook her head in annoyance. "Not like that, you pig. Like this," she lifted her leg and motioned towards his hands. When he didn't comprehend, she groaned in frustration. "Put your hands together so I can climb to the top."

"And you want to do this for?" 

"Just do it, please." Spike sighed and cut his eyes playfully before complying with Buffy. He bent his knees and locked his fingers together and bracing herself, Buffy put her foot into the palm of his hands. 

"So," he said as he hoisted her up to the roof of the crypt, "who's the philosophical genius you've patterned yourself after?"

"What?" She asked as her hands gripped the edges of the roof. Buffy pulled herself up in one fluid motion. Lying on her stomach, she glanced over the edge and reached her hand out. Spike took in and she pulled him up.

"Thanks," he said and they both brushed the dirt from the front of their clothing. Spike removed his jacket and placed it on the stone surface, gesturing for Buffy to sit on it. She nodded her thanks, a childlike smile creeping across her lips before she positioned herself on it, hugging her knees to her chest. 

Spike imitated her posture, aware of the sizzling air between them. 

"So," he drawled, "who's that philosopher of yours? The one spewing the rot about expecting the unexpected?" 

"Eight-Ball," she replied sheepishly. The Brit cocked his head to the side and regarded the petite woman next to him. Her strength of body and spirit were so great, that he sometimes forgot how small she really was. She was twenty-three now and yet she reminded him so much of the sixteen year old girl he had seen dancing in the Bronze all those years ago. It had been the first time in two days that he realized how dead she really was when she had come back. The vibrancy that radiated from her now, though still not as bright with the innocence of her youth, still caused his heart to swell and he wanted nothing more than to shield her from the creatures of the night that would continue to prowl in the shadows, waiting for that one good day. 

Forcing himself from the depressing and painful thoughts of her death, Spike refocused on her answer. With his patented smirk firmly in place, he replied "Didn't think you were one for the narcotics, luv." 

"Huh? What? Oh, no Spike." She snorted derisively. "Not _that _kind of Eight-ball. Eight-Ball as in the rapper." Buffy laughed at incredulous stare aimed at her and responded before he could ask. "It was an LA thing, okay." She chuckled silently to herself, catching Spike shake his head in disbelief. 

"Buffy Summers listening to the negative influences of hip hop music," he said sarcastically, "I will never look at you the same." 

"You're a dork, Spike," she joked, bumping him playfully. 

Spike grinned before turning his attention back to the sky. The clear night gave him a perfect view of the twinkling stars and he inhaled the cool air, thankful for its calming effects. Right now he was content to say nothing and enjoy the companionable silence between he and Buffy but he knew that wouldn't last. She was going to start asking him questions sooner or later—questions he did not particularly care to answer though he would not deny her queries. How could he, when he had several questions of his own for her to answer? 

__

Might as well enjoy the peace now, he thought, _because it won't bloody last. _And that was so true. Nothing between him and the slayer ever had. 

"You know," Buffy's words cuts through the silence, "it is beautiful up here." I've always been able to gauge Buffy's mood through her voice. Like her eyes, it gives her away and its now dulcet melody expresses her content to just sit here. I'm happy to hear her so whole though I can't help but feel unwarranted bitterness creep up my spine at the thought her finally coming up here. How many times had I asked her to just sit and gaze at the stars? How many times was I shot down for it? I wanna say it doesn't matter, though, but for some reason I can't. 

__

"Would've been nice if you would've come up here with me before," I say and my tone is a little to sour for my tastes. She lowers her head shamefully and I instantly feel like a heel. But before I can apologize, she props her head up and glances at me sideways. 

"I know," her voice is small but in the next moment it's almost hopeful, "better late than never, though, right?" I peek at her from the corner of my eye and see the timid and confused look on her face. Okay, the timid I get but not sure where the confusion's from. Guess I better store that tidbit for later observation. Instead, I throw her a wink and she relaxes visibly. 

"That's what they say," I add before turning my attention back to the stars. It's not that I'm so interested in them any more, but they are a distraction, and that's something I need considering that I want nothing more than to reach over to Buffy and ravage her till the sun comes up. And, whatta ya know? No bloody sun allergy to interrupt. Of course, the thought of ravaging her brings forth memories of the bathroom…and the trials. Bloody hell. My stomach is churning, threatening to spill whatever contents are resting in it. S'not like I'm not used to it. Every time I think of that particular trial—marathon, more like it—I get the urge to toss my cookies though I haven't in over a year. Gotta thank Rachel for getting through to me to put it out of my mind. Don't know where I'd be right now if it weren't for her. Not here, that's for sure. 

"Spike?" Buffy's voice breaks through my cloudy thought and I turn to her, eyes downcast. What the bloody hell? If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was feeling a tad bit guilty thinking of Rachel like that. Whatever…

"Yeah, pet?" I watch her play with the tips of her boots, her nails glistening in the moonlight. Her head lolls back and forth, a telltale sign of her reluctance to start. "Come now, Slayer," I encourage, turning her chin up with my finger, "none of that. I know you wanna be one with the questions. Ask away." She smiles at me and my heart flutters at the beauty of it. When she looks at me like that, I am helpless to resist her. I would travel through every hell dimension known to man and back again just to get her to smile at me like that again. For a moment, I envision the content that I feel at seeing her like this is exactly what heaven offers—Buffy's smile. And I know that that smile would last me throughout eternity. 

"What happened? Earlier." Her question breaks me from my temporary attempts at again becoming the pathetic poofter of a poet. Of course, it's not without consequence as the joy immediately simmers and I am left with the memories of my breakdown not one hour ago. 

My mind goes blank in how to answer that. How do you tell the one person you love above all others that you had to endure thirty days of nonstop violations of her all in the blink of an eye? Doesn't matter if it was an illusion or not, the point was that I watched as **I **tore her clothes, penetrated her amidst her cries and pleas for me not to. It was me that ripped at her throat, reveling in the taste of her warm blood as it coated my throat. It was me that laughed as she gurgled on her own fluids while I pounded into her harder, cackling unmercifully. 

"Spike," she calls and reaches a hand out to me. I pull away instinctively, my body coiling with tension. I look at her, guilt clouding my vision. That and a bloody influx of tears spilling from my eyes. 

I swipe my arm viciously across my eyes, desperately attempting to push the tears into oblivion. I've had to fight so many internal demons in the last two years, holding most of them at bay. But that one memory of Buffy, her robe torn, and the subsequent trial relating to that are the only things I cannot defeat. They haunt me even when I am smiling and I know that, one day, if I don't do something, they will destroy me. 

The feel of Buffy's hands as she cups my face pulls me back into the present. Not even realizing that I closed my eyes, I open them to find my slayer in front of me, her legs are splayed on either side of me. The kindness in her eyes is almost too much and I choke back a sob. 

"Hey," she chides, "none of that." I smile ruefully at her wording and she rewards me with another brilliant smile of her own. Immediately, I feel the pain dissipate though its shadow continues lurking just beyond the periphery of my thoughts. 

"Sorry, pet," I say and rest my hands on her ankles. Her smile fades and her eyes fill with a determined solemnity. Bugger, that's the Buffy resolve face, not as effective as Red's by half but it gets the job done nonetheless. 

"So, can you tell me what that was about back there?" I move to drop my eyes but her hands hold my head firmly in place. Sighing dramatically (which grants me a trademark Buffy eye roll) I fix my gaze to hers, scrambling for words. Finally, I know where to begin, though I know the pain that will be in her eyes will only compound her guilt. 

"Remember when I told you about the trials I went through in Africa?" I ask and run a shaky hand through my light brown locks. I idly think about dying it again but put that thought on hold when she answers. 

"Yeah," her hands fall to my boots and she plays with the laces though her eyes never leave mine. "And from the way you were talking about them I'd say you were quite proud at beating your opponents." 

"Yeah," I smirk, thinking about how good it felt ripping Fire Boy and Demon Two-Heads apart but my skin crawls when I think of the beetles that burrowed into my flesh. 

"All but those beetles, I'd say," she smirks as my hands rub up and down my arms. 

"Yeah. The thing is, Slayer…Buffy…the thing is that demons with two heads and fists of fire weren't the only things I had to endure. I only told you those because I was proud of besting those gits." 

"And the beetles?"

"Well, a man's gotta boast about his stamina sometimes," I joke but she sees through my hubris right away. 

"What is it?" She asks and her tone brokers no argument. This time I do drop my head, fumbling for words, how to make her understand without repulsing her. I don't know if the latter is even possible. No matter how I sugarcoat it, she'll be disgusted, wholly and completely. Hell, she'll probably stake me where I sit; though a stake isn't even necessary anymore. 

She waits patiently for me to begin, her body still and calm though I can almost hear her heart beating. She knows it's something bad, awful even, but I doubt she really understands…but doesn't she? 

"What was the worst moment of your life?" I ask and already know the answer. 

"When I had to kill Angel," She doesn't even hesitate to say it and I'm proud of her. The slight flinch in her eyes betrays her calm exterior but I say nothing, offering her an understanding smile in support. 

"I've done some horrible things, Buffy. Things that aren't in your Watcher's books. I don't really think you'd even be this close to me if you knew some of the things I've done. Things I have to live with for the rest of my life. I deal with them quite well, I should say, because I know I can't change what I did. Still, that doesn't make it all go away. It'll always be there, in the back of my mind, the soddin' guilt, like a faithful companion. I don't even try to ignore it, just acknowledge it and move it. 

"But there is one thing that I can't shake. Two things, actually. The night I failed you up on that tower," I hold up my hand when she motions to speak, "I know, I did my best and considering the job that hell bitch did on me the week before, it's a wonder I was still vertical. Knowing that doesn't change the fact that I failed you. It's okay now, though, seeing you better, alive." My hand comes to my face and I stroke the short stubble on my chin thoughtfully. I want to tell her that as ecstatic as I was every time she came to see me, a part of me died. It wasn't because she was using me but because I blamed myself for all of it. If I 'd stopped the Doc, she wouldn't have had to sacrifice herself. But I dare not tell her that. S'enough already what I am about to say. 

"Up until the…up until the bathroom, failing you on that tower was the worst moment of your life. But that night in your bathroom, that night distances my failure on the tower by…it's just worse, Buffy. 

"Even though you died because of me, seeing you in pain like that, clutching your robe in pain, physical and emotional, was worse than seeing your body on the rubble. At least you had a look of peace about you then. But my violation of you—what I almost did…"

"But you didn't," she says emphatically. 

"But what if I had?" My voice is a whisper even to my ears and I doubt that Buffy hears what I said. By the look on her face, however, she does. 

"But you didn't," she repeats. I shake my head in frustration. Not at her, but at the situation. 

"But you're wrong, Slayer. I did." 

"Uh, Spike," her tone is one of annoyance, "I think I would know if you had r-raped me. Don't you think?" 

"Don't you see, Buffy? I know I didn't do it, but in _here_," I point to my head, "I did it. Not once or twice, or, hell even three bloody times. In here, I did it over and over again, nonstop for thirty days. Didn't matter that those thirty days happened in an instant because, to me, it was thirty days…" When I finish, I realize that I was half shouting though at Buffy's look, I know that it was necessary. Confusion turns to comprehension to horror as her brain processes it all. I shut my eyes tightly when I watch a tear fall down her cheek. I will _not _bloody cry again. I will _not _bloody cry. 

I feel her stand and my heart breaks. I knew she would be disgusted and I doubt after tonight I'll ever see her again. Fine be me, I don't deserve…

But as quickly as self-pity threatens to tear me apart, reed thin arms with the strength of a dozen men wrap around my neck as delicate legs stretch out on either side of me. Buffy pulls me to her and at first I resist but those little slayer arms don't take no for an answer. 

She rocks me like that for several minutes and I cry silently in her embrace while I tell her the rest of what went on during those thirty days. My tears are partially from relief at telling her and her acceptance of me. The rest are left over from that night and I don't think I will be ever rid of those. 

"I can't imagine," she says, "living the day I had to kill Angel over even once. But to see it, to have to live through it like that, I couldn't do it. I would go insane."

I chuckle humorlessly. "Think that was the general idea, pet. Have someone live out their worst fear like some bloody movie marathon doesn't usually end with the contestant with the soundest of minds. Way of thinning out the herd. Not many have kept their sanity, you know."

"But you did. You did," she whispers the last part in my ear and kisses me on the side of my head. I can't help but smile at the gesture and the admiration in her words. Never thought I get that from Buffy but hey, never thought I'd get a soul either. 

As my hand idly caresses her forearm still wrapped around my neck, I can't help but wonder what other things out there that I never thought I get that are within my grasp. I purposely refuse to think about the beautiful woman whose limbs are holding me. Of course, just because I refuse to think about it doesn't mean that my mind cooperates. And instead of fighting it, I embellish the thought but remind myself to take it slow. 

Baby steps. 

"Your turn to spill, Summers," Spike said after twenty minutes passed. Buffy still had not relinquished her hold on the former vampire, instead drawing him closer with her chin resting on his shoulder. 

Buffy sighed, closing her eyes tightly. There was so much in her mind that she didn't know where to begin. She didn't know what to tell him and what to save for a later date. 

"Stop plotting Slayer and out with it," he teased and nudged her. Buffy squeezed him tight enough to be called uncomfortable before letting go. 

"Remember whose in whose hands, buddy boy." 

"No place else I'd rather be, pet," he countered and Buffy couldn't help but sigh at the heartfelt comment. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent permeating from Spike, a mixture of the new and the old. Gone were the smells of blood and cigarettes and alcohol, replaced by some sort of killer after-shave that made her swoon. But the staple musk that made Spike was still there and it was comforting. 

Resigning herself to being honest, Buffy forced the words out of her mouth. 

"I'm scared, Spike," she said and was taken aback by her own directness. Spike moved to turn around but she held him in place. "Don't," she murmured, "I don't think I'll be able to finish if I have to look you in the eye."

"Buffy," Spike began but she put two fingers over his lips.

"Promise me," she said, her fingers trailing the angle of his jaw, "that you won't interrupt. I know I said I've changed but right now the old Buffy is kicking and screaming to get out and make me run for the hills. Just keep me here and listen, and I promise I'll get through it the best I can." She closed her eyes, waiting for his response, which he gave by bringing her fingers back to his lips and kissing them. 

"Promise, luv." 

Taking another deep breath, she continued. "I was crying earlier because I'm scared. Before I saw you two days ago on stage, I didn't know what would happen when I saw you. I told myself I had forgiven you and I did. I do. But still, there was that uncertainty about things likes how I would react seeing you. Gotta say, not too well at first although…"

"Although what?"

"You did look kinda sexy in that tight shirt on stage." Spike's body shook with silent laughter though he remained silent. "Anyway, the point is that the first time I saw you on stage, I wanted you. That shook me up a bit and when I confronted you in the office, a part of me--the old Buffy--was disgusted with me wanting a guy who tried to r…to force himself on me. I was so confused at what I should feel for you, Spike. I mean, yeah, we were mortal enemies but we became friends somewhat. And then after I came back--well, we know what happened there. The point is that you brought this mess of emotions within me to the forefront and they were warring for supremacy. Old Buffy won for a moment as you saw with the bitch Buffy mode I was in. But after I got that out of my system, as bad as it got between us, I didn't want to lose you again. I wanted you in my life." 

Spike's heart shot up at Buffy's confession though he remained calm on the outside. She had said something similar in the _Blue Song _but for some reason, the words touched him in an even deeper way now. He didn't know if it was her saying it a second time or her tone but he hoped her next words would enlighten his mood. 

"Going to the Waffle House, talking about us was a new experience. We've never done that before, though I know I have to take the blame for that one. Still, I felt so comfortable with you, like we've been together for years. My mind wasn't thinking about Dawn or the bathroom or Garrett," she felt him tense ever so slightly at the mention of Garrett but ignored it, "it was just me and you; Spike and Buffy having a good time. It felt so natural. Does that make sense?"

"It does," he assured. Truth be told, he had felt the same way. It had surprised him that they had gotten along so well, and continued to do so, despite the Garrett situation and the bathroom incident. Buffy had been right when she said their lack of talking was her fault. There had been several times when Spike had tried to get her to talk instead of shag but she wouldn't have it. If anything, she would throw him against the wall and ravage him until he complied. He always went along though it hurt him to do so. As he thought about it, Spike wished that just once he had had the courage to tell her no and mean it. Maybe they would have ended up differently but, then again, maybe he wouldn't be here now. 

"I really do love Garrett," she said and Spike couldn't help but jerk in response. _Way to change gears on me, _he thought bitterly before settling back into her embrace. 

"I know, Buffy," Spike replied, forcing all emotion from his voice. He didn't see Buffy wince at his callous tone but, at that moment, he really didn't care. 

"I…I'm sorry," She stuttered and motioned to get up but Spike held her wrists firmly into place. Though he didn't turn to face her, his words were enough to keep her there. 

"Don't ever be sorry about what you feel, Buffy. Never. Once you do that, you'll just start tailoring yourself to what the people around you want and you won't be you anymore. 

"Yeah, it may not please people all of the time, but that's just too bad. Not to say that you need to be cruel about it, but being honest to yourself and to others about your feelings may be the only way you can remain sane in this bloody world."

Buffy smiled though she knew he couldn't see it. She squeezed his hand in affirmation and continued where she left off. 

"I said that because that's part of what I'm scared of." Spike cocked his head to the side and Buffy knew he was confused. "I mean, I'm happy with him, I really am. I am happier than I've ever been. I mean, I was head over heels in love with Angel, but I really can't say that I was happy with him. It was like a bloody soap opera, what with all the angst between us. Plus, hello, sixteen, a walking hormone bomb waiting to go off at any minute. I was just a tad bit emotional--not a good mix with the mysterious and broody.

"I settled with Riley, I know that now. He was a good guy and I really did care for him but I didn't love him. Even if I wasn't holding back with him, I don't think that I would have been happy with him. 

"But with Garrett," she sighed, "with him, it's different. I mean, he does have me on this pedestal but it's not like I can do no wrong. Like I told you, he's not scared to tell bitch Buffy to take a hike when she comes out. He's not mean about it or anything, but he gets the message across. But he accepts that every so often, it's not all peaches and daisies with me. That helps because I know I don't have to put on a front for him and I almost feel complete." He raised an eyebrow at the 'almost' though he let her continue. 

"He's dependable but not boring. Hell, sometimes he even surprises me with things. I couldn't have it any better. And that's what scares me." 

"Sorry pet, but I don't think I followed you round that last bend," Spike said. 

"The fact that I have a man who loves me, a man that _I _love and yet I don't know whether or not I want to be with him."

"Why?" Spike had a feeling where this was going though he tried to remain calm. 

"Because, not one hour ago, I was ready to make love to you with barely a second thought." _Okay, _he thought, taking a very necessary breath _didn't know it was going there. _

"I mean, I just cheated on Garrett and even though I feel guiltier than sin, I can't help but hold you right now."

They were both silent for several minutes, both uncertain of what to say next. Spike was torn between elation and dejection. The former because Buffy admitted that she wanted him--wanted to make love to him. Of course, the dejection surfaced from the fact that she really loved Garrett and still wore his ring. Saying he was thoroughly clueless as to what to do was a vast understatement. _Guess I'm gonna have to play this by ear. _

Buffy was shaken by her honesty. Spike's comments about not being sorry for what she felt had unleashed an invisible barrier within her. Of course, there were still a few things that she had yet to tell him and was hesitant to do so. _I don't want him to get his hopes up, _she thought to herself. 

_His hopes, Buffy, or yours? _Another voice countered. She wanted to discount the validity of that last statement but couldn't. She may have been greatly invigorated, but baring such intimate feelings terrified her. _And that's not even taking into account Garrett. God, Buffy--why oh why do you get caught up in these situations? _

Sensing Buffy's distress, Spike turned towards her. "Let's get out of here."

"Huh?" She asked, her thoughts still a mess. 

"Let's get outta here. Go home watch a movie." 

"Spike…" 

"Listen, Summers; we're just gonna watch some telly. I promise to keep my sexy digits to myself. We'll just be a couple of friends watching some movies together." 

"But we haven't finished…" he silenced her with a kiss. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch of his lips and her mind went out of focus. She shook her head, desperately fighting the desire that threatened to consume her. 

"Don't worry, luv. I won't do that again," he could see the disappointment cloud her features and smiled inwardly. "The next time we do kiss is when you are sure what you want. I know you love Garrett, I do. And as hard as it is for me to say this, I do respect the bloke. S' decent. But I know you feel something for me and, in case you don't know, I still love you. As much, if not more than I did before. But I want all of you. I don't know if I deserve it, but I won't settle for a night of love making only to wake up and have you regret it." 

Buffy stared at Spike in disbelief. She never would have guessed those words would come from his mouth. She knew that he wasn't happy about it by any circumstance--his twitching jaw muscles laid claim to that. But regardless of what he felt, he had told her what she needed to hear. 

Opening her arms, Buffy embraced Spike in a friendly hug, thankful for his support. A few minutes later they were back to the ground, heading back to Revello Drive. 

Giving Buffy his support had hurt Spike more than she knew. It was not lost on him that he was possibly driving her back into the arms of her fiancé and out of Spike's forever. But he had to risk that for her. After all, wasn't her happiness the most important thing? 

One time he had thought that he was the only one for her, the only one could understand _and _accept who and what she was. Seeing Garrett and the love the man held in his gray eyes had him doubting that particular line of thought. 

Walking side by side with Buffy, Spike couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't the demon that she couldn't love but William. He tried hard to fight the feeling that washed over him. _Wouldn't that be ironic? _He thought. _Buffy not loving the human part of me. _

He smiled hollowly when Buffy nudged him when he didn't answer her question. As he started chatting with her, his thoughts wondered if he wasn't good enough. After all, he wasn't for Cecily or Drusilla. 

Why would it be any different with Buffy? 


	12. Part XII

Do What You Have to Do

Part XII

The soft buzz of the doorbell jogged Spike from his well-deserved slumber. He lifted his head and groaned at the kink that shot through his neck.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled, massaging the protesting body part. His sleep filled eyes fell onto the muted picture of the television and he smiled, remembering the night before. 

After their talk in the cemetery, he and Buffy had stopped by the newly expanded Willie's. He had added a video section, considering that demons liked movies, too, and they rented a couple of DVD's from the place. They had also stocked up on candy, something that Buffy considered "a necessary goodness, especially if we're going to watch _those _movies", a demand to which Spike had relinquished to. The wrapper-covered table was a testament to the sugary binge they had both indulged in and he had been surprised that sleep had actually been attained. 

"Speaking of sleep," Spike smiled as he took in the peaceful form of the slayer. The woman that sent fear into the denizens of the underworld was huddled in the opposite corner of the couch, her hair tied in a loose ponytail. When they had gotten here, she had gone to change into her jammies. That consisted of a white tank top (plus sports bra in order to "quell any piggish thoughts" that may have flashed through his mind) and a matching pair of Joe Boxer house pants that were designed with little brown lines that curiously looked like stakes. He had teased her about it and she had just shrugged though she couldn't hide the gleam of amusement from her eyes. He had left it alone but was far from done teasing her about such a cute getup for his slayer. 

The doorbell buzzed again, this time accompanied by a softer knock and Spike rose to his feet. Reaching for the sky, he stretched the tight muscles in his back before walking over to Buffy. Kneeling down in front of her, he admired her peaceful repose. Her head leaned on the arm of the chair; one hand acting as a minor pillow while her other hand was snugly positioned between her legs that were drawn up to her chest. She looked like nothing short of an angel in the early morning light and he couldn't resist the urge to touch her. 

He reached a tentative hand out towards her face and stopped when the bang on the door lost some of its timidity. Tucking a strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear, Spike rose and sauntered to the door. 

"Buffy, I'm sorry I…" Willow began as the door opened, only to stop when she saw the sandy haired man that stared back at her. 

" 'Lo Red," Spike said, offering his favorite witch his trademark smirk. 

"Spike?" The Wicca stuttered, dropping her purse as she stepped towards her former comrade. "Is it really…?" 

"Far as I can tell, it's still me," he answered sheepishly as her hand caressed the chiseled angles of his jaw. 

Green eyes were locked on blue and Spike began to feel somewhat uncomfortable with Willow's prying eyes. A number of emotions passed before them: anger, disappointment, hurt, relief, confusion and joy. He didn't know which she would display first though he had resigned himself to feel the anger and hurt of another person he had unwittingly caused pain to. 

So it was quite unexpected when he found himself tackled to the ground, victim of a hundred and ten pound bear hug by the formerly bashful computer nerd. 

"You're back," Willow smiled into his cheek as she pelted him with kisses and Spike fought the lump in his throat at the heartfelt welcome, though as her tears touched his skin, Spike felt a wave of sadness and guilt threaten to overwhelm him. 

"What's going on?" Buffy demanded as she raced into the foyer. The commotion of bodies hitting the floor had energized her sleep-addled brain into action and she had drawn the poker from the fireplace, ready and willing to use it as a weapon on the possible intruder. The adrenaline pumping through her veins had initiated her fast response though it stopped upon seeing the tangle of limbs before her. 

Dressed in jeans and a red windbreaker, Willow straddled an obviously stunned Spike, her arms wrapped tightly around the ex-vampire in a crushing embrace. Spike's arms hung loosely around her waist as one hand stroked her back tenderly. He glanced up at Buffy and offered the slayer one of those shy smiles she rarely had the chance to see. The warmth that coursed through her body from it and the embrace her best friend gave Spike was pleasantly overwhelming and she sunk to her knees, smiling at the two. 

"He's back," Willow said hoarsely, her voice full of emotion. Buffy's right hand absently stroked Willow's shoulder-length hair and she replied to the witch's comment. 

"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Her voice was soft and playful and Willow scrunched her nose in mock-indignation. 

"Well, hey," she said in defense, "it's not like I was told or anything. And…and, I…"

"And you've been holed up for the past week and a half, away from civilization, working on your thesis that won't be due for another six months," Buffy smiled at her friend who returned the gaze. 

"Well, yeah, that too. But you could have called me," she replied her hands absently stroking Spike's hair. 

"Yeah," Buffy had the decency to look ashamed at not giving her best friend the news. True, she had told Willow she was going to search for him, but she hadn't said when. Also, she really hadn't known what to say in the first place and had hoped the answer to that question would have come to her. Obviously, it never did. 

"As much as I love two beautiful women leaning over me like so," the ignored Spike said, "what'll the neighbors think of this little scene?" Both women looked at him and back to each other and they shot to their feet. Willow's cheeks flamed a deeper red than her hair and the former immortal smirked before holding his hands out. The two women grabbed his hands before helping him to his feet. Rolling a crink out of his neck, Spike gave Willow a genuine smile before putting his arm around her shoulders. "Missed you, too, Red," he offered and planted a kiss on the top of her head, letting his outward affection mask the confusion of Willow's warm reception. 

The three friends stood awkwardly in the foyer, shuffling their feet before Buffy finally spoke up. "Well, not to put a damper on things, but maybe we should go into the living room." Willow and Spike nodded their agreement and Buffy closed the door. 

"Bet you got a lot of questions, huh, Red?" Spike asked, escorting the red head towards the recliner. 

"You have no idea," she replied as the shock wore off and the questions formulated in her mind. 

***

"So," Willow says, her eyes shift between me and Spike, "you're human now, but not human? You're still one with the superpowers?" 

"Got it in one, Red," Spike replies to Willow's recap of the last half hour. Spike told her the basics of his new lease on life, though some of the more—unseemly—details concerning the trials had been purposely omitted. I can tell that Willow knows Spike held back a bit on the intimates of everything and a part of me feels good about that. I know, it sounds cheesy and selfish, but I can't help but feel special knowing that I'm the only one that gets the Full Monty…so to speak. 

"How long are you staying in good ol' Sunny D?" Willow's question snaps me out of my reverie and back into the present and, though I know the answer, I focus on Spike's answer. 

"For the foreseeable future," he responds, giving me a look that causes my cheeks to flush in embarrassment and other things that shall remain nameless at this moment. 

"I see," Willow nods and cuts me a knowing glance that screams 'we are so going to talk about this later' and I lower my eyes, not wanting to give anything away to Spike. Fat chance of that happening though. 

"Well," he says, dramatically stretching his arms towards the ceiling and I notice, not for the first time the tight fit of the black tank top he changed into last night. It really leaves nothing to the imagination and I force myself to look him in the eye. 

Bad move, Buffy. 

"Guess I'll go and grab a shower, if that's alright for you, pet?" He arches a scarred eyebrow my way and though I can see the desire clearly reflecting off his magnificent eyes, he doesn't tease me at my obvious gawking. Well, at least he's holding up to his end of the deal. 

I nod dumbly before scrounging up something to say. "Uh, yeah, that's fine. Me and Wills have some catching up to do anyway." I say even though we're gonna go shopping in a few hours. 

"Right, then," he smiles boyishly before closing the distance between he and Willow, dropping a warm kiss on her cheek that makes her blush. "Good to see you again, Red." 

"You too, Spike," she smiles, "we really have to chat sometime." Their eyes lock and for the first time I see the connection they have with one another. I don't know if it's always been there or it's the mutual understanding of taking a human life, but I am thankful that they now have someone who intimately understands. 

I'm also glad they don't see the twinge of jealousy alight in my eyes. 

"That we do, love, that we do," he answers, his eyes somber. But as quickly as the sadness was there, it passes and his eyes flare to life once more. "Well ladies, until later, I bid ye adieu." He gives us a mock bow before sauntering out of the room. I can't help but admire the ripple of his back muscles under the black tee, or the way his butt sways in that Big Bad way of his…

I peak a glance at Willow and see that I'm not the only one admiring the view. "Wills!" I gasp in mock horror and the look on her face is priceless. The laughter that follows is the only thing that throws her off the tint of jealousy in my tone and it's not long before she joins in. 

"Wow," she whispers after coming to sit next to me on the couch.

"Yeah, wow," I agree, knowing what she's talking about. 

"If I wasn't gay Buffy, I would ravage him like a starving man's steak." 

"Will!" I slap her thigh and this time there is no denying my jealousy. She turns to me, resting her head on the back of the couch and her hands slide between her legs that are now drawn up under her. 

"What?" she asks mischievously, "I was just appreciating the manly goodness that was before us." Her look of innocence belies her words and I frown at her. It only elicits another laugh from her and, instead of laughing my frown deepens until Willow's cheeks are as a deep crimson. Finally, I do chuckle lightly though not with the same fervor as before. 

"What is it, Buff?" Willow asks, her amusement disappearing completely. 

"It's…" my 'nothing' doesn't come out as I am on the receiving end of the ever evolving but no less effective Willow Rosenberg resolve face accompanied by the hand of silence. 

"Buffy," she says, her tone gentle but firm, "we've been best friends for eight years. I know when something's bothering you. And considering that a former undead lover of yours is back in town, it kinda narrows down the topic of conversation in your dazed and confused brain."

"Thanks a lot, Wills," I reply sarcastically. 

"I don't mean it like that, Buffy," she reassures and lays her hand on my arm. I turn towards her, mirroring her pose and smile. "I can't blame you, Buff, who could? Here you are, on an engagement hiatus. You go to look for your ex-mortal enemy for closure, you find that you're still attracted to said ex-enemy not to mention feelings you probably don't wanna comprehend for him, especially considering that your fiancé is drop-dead gorgeous and loves you. Hell, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet." 

"Give me time," I smile and shake my head at Willow's on-point analysis of the situation. I'm not even surprised at her insightfulness. Ever since returning from England early last year, Willow's ability to read people and their problems have often bordered on the spooktacular and today is no different. Though I confided in her about things, I never really opened up, vocally that is, about my feelings towards Spike. She would just look at me in this way and spill all that I was feeling as if it were her experiencing it. 

"So, you wanna tell me what's going on?" She prods, her hand dropping between us. 

"I…I don't know. You can probably figure it out, Will."

"I don't want to figure it out, Buffy," she replies, "I want you to tell me." I lower my head instinctively, still unsure of what I'm feeling, much less how to express it. Even last night with Spike, there was a lot of stuff I left out. Though I did share things with him about Garrett I never thought I'd say, there was so much about _me, _about what I really fear, that I shut my mouth about. 

"Willow," I hesitate and her encouraging smile alleviates some of the pressure building in my chest. Still, it's there, threatening to close around my throat. "Willow, I…" my thoughts are interrupted by the phone and I jump up to answer it. 

"Saved by the bell," Willow calls out teasingly and I turn around and stick my tongue at her before picking up the phone. 

"Summers' residence," I chirp into the phone. 

"From the sound of it, it appears that somebody got some last night," Dawn jokes, her tone filled with excitement. 

"If I didn't know any better, _Dawnie, _I would think the same about you but considering that I would _kill _said accomplice of yours if it were true, I'm guessin' it has to do with a special day tomorrow." 

"Well, ya never know…"

"Dawn!" I shout and cover my eyes at the sight of my baby sister doing thing that I didn't even do until—well, okay, so I wasn't exactly a virgin at her age. But I was still _virginal. _Okay, Buffy, still not helping in thinking about little sister. 

"Relax, Buff, I'm kidding," she huffs and I can hear her eyes roll from here. "Yeah, I'm so excited about tomorrow. It'll be my last day at that bloody school." I chuckle at her British speak. It's been like that for the last two years, both of us falling into Spike-isms at various times without even realizing it. I guess that shows how much of an impact he's had on our lives, huh?

"Graduation's gonna rock," she continues before pausing, "but I doubt if it'll top you guys' ceremony." 

"I should hope not," I deadpan, "one gigantic snake demon as commencement speaker is one gigantic snake demon as commencement speaker too many."

"But you got to blow up the school," she whines and I chuckle at her childlike behavior. What am I kidding? We both act like five year olds when we're together—it's a wonder we haven't been committed. 

"That's true." I reminisce. Can't say much more than that. And she is right; I don't think there will _ever _be as exciting as a graduation as ours. God, I hope not. 

We remain silent for a few seconds, lost in our own thoughts before Dawn speaks and I am again reminded of the little girl she used to be. 

"So…is Spike still there?" I can see her twirling a lock of hair nervously. 

"Yeah, he's taking a shower." 

"What did you guys do!?!" She shouts, her voice a mixture of horror and excitement. I know she likes Garrett, loves him even, but the bond she shares with Spike is like no other bond she's ever had. To be honest, I'm not sure if she's cheering for Garrett or Spike and now that I have compared my love life to a cheerleading contest, complete with spirit fingers, I ask to be put out of my misery. Please? 

"Nothing. Nothing!" I snap back before hesitating, "Not much," I mutter and she snorts. 

"We will talk about this later. But I wanted to know about dinner tonight." 

"What about it?" 

"Is…everybody still coming?" 

"As far as I know. I think Giles' plane gets in at around seven and we can go from there." 

"Buffy?" I hear the uncertainty in her voice and know what she's going to ask. 

"Yeah, Dawnie?" 

"Do you think…do you think Spike would wanna come?" The fear and hopefulness in her voice moves me and I fight through the lump forming in my throat. 

"I didn't ask him but I'm sure that he wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Even with…Xander, Giles and Garrett there?" 

"For you Dawnie, he'd do anything." I can almost see her face beaming at what I say and I think she really understands that my words are true. As much as they still have to talk about, I know she and Spike are crazy about each other and that kind of bond they have can never be broken. Sure, it may take sometime, but they will be back to being partners-in-crime before I know it. 

"Is it okay if I ask him?" 

"Sure. I think he'd like that. I'll give him your cell number before me and Willow leave for the mall." 

"Getting something for the dinner tonight?" She asks, the swagger back in her voice. 

"Yes. I mean no," I stutter. "You know I'm getting something for tomorrow, I told you that."

"Oh I know," she chirps, "but while you're at it, why not get something for tonight? I know that's what's going through that little blonde cranium of yours."

"Oh, aren't we the funny one, today," I retort sardonically. 

"Well, I learned from the best." 

"That you did." 

"Well, look, I gotta go but I will see you around five, okay." 

"Okay, Dawnie." 

"And don't forget to give Spike my cell," she says over the burgeoning voices in the background. 

"I will. Love you." 

"Love you, too," she replies before hanging up. I sigh dramatically, as I listen to the distant running of shower water, loathe to go back and talk to Willow. It took Dawn less than two minutes to cut to the chase about what me and Spike did…almost did. How long before Willow figures it out? I mean, I want to tell her, but what do I say? 'Oh, by the way, me and Spike made out against a pillar and if it weren't for him, we would have done the nasty right there in the cemetery?' I don't think that will fly—well, it will but not without making me look like a total freak. 

"Well, time to face the music," I huff and wonder what Willow's face will look like when she finds out. 

I don't have to wait long as her brilliant green eyes are wide with mirth and accusation. 

"Wha…" I start defensively. 

"You are **so **gonna get it!" she admonishes me and I collapse on the floor, groaning. In the background I hear my best friend cackling and it sounds way too much like a stereotypical witch-laugh. 

_Why me, _I ask God though my face is still buried into the carpet. _Why me? _I wouldn't be surprised if He answers me with a boisterous chortle of his own. 

***

"Spike," I knock lightly on the door before pushing it open just a bit. I peek in and see Spike putting something behind his back, a look of undeniable guilt on his face. If he didn't look so cute like that…

"Hey," I say before my mind runs away from me again. I force myself to make eye contact instead of tracing the curves of his sculpted upper body, which is naked I might add. 

"Hey yourself," he says a little too quickly, the flush evident on his cheeks. 

"Uh, I…me and Wills are headed to the mall. Do you want anything?" I mumble out the question, intent on defeating the hypnotic call of his chest and abs in all their bareness. Doesn't he ever wear a shirt? 

"Didn't you go yesterday?" He asks, standing up and walking towards me. I see a red notebook sticking out from under the pillow and I file that away for later analysis. 

"Well, yeah, but you know; shopping with your girlfriend is different than shopping with a dapper Englishman, no matter how snazzy of a dresser he's turned out to be." 

"Oh, so I'm snazzy, now?" His eyebrow raises in amusement and, for some odd reason a furious blush latches onto my face. Damn it, Buffy, stay focused. 

"You're all right, I guess," I flash him a coy grin and it's his turn to look away. Point for Summers. Yay me.

"Only all right, love? You wound me with your words." He raises his hand to his chest in mock injury and I can't help but laugh. 

"You're such a dork, Spike," I admonish and slap him in the chest, which has an immediate impact. 

The simple feel of my skin on his ignites a spark between us and we both pull away immediately, both knowing what will happen if we don't. The look in his eyes is priceless and I know mine are just as bright and wide. 

"Well," he starts and jams his hands into the pocket of his jeans. 

"Yeah, well," I reiterate and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "So, I'm about to go."

"Yeah." 

"We'll be back in a few hours. Giles' plane gets in at seven and we're gonna…" I stop forgetting that Dawn wants to ask him. 

"You're gonna what?" 

"Oh, Dawn wants you to call her. She needs to ask you something important."

"Nibblet's okay, isn't she?" I note the look of worry that scratches across his brow and wave away his concern. 

"Oh, no, Dawn's fine. Something's going on that she really wants to ask you about and I promised her that I wouldn't tell you." His smile returns and I give him one in return. 

"She's not gonna try and get me alone to stake me, is she?" 

"I'm pretty sure she got all of the violence out yesterday," I goad. 

"You got that right," he quips, his hand rubbing his cleanly shaven jaw line. "Bit sure knows how to throw an open hand. If her punches are that good, my newly beating heart goes out to the denizens of the underworld." 

"What can I say? She's had an excellent teacher."

"Humble much?" He asks incredulously and walks towards the bed, pulling a white Polo over his head. I guess the eye show's over. 

"Buffy!" Willow's voice calls up, her impatience evident. 

"Yeah?" I call, poking my head out the door. 

"Can we go now?" she whines and me and Spike laugh. 

"You better go, before the lovely witch of Sunnydale does a little hocus pocus on us." 

"Okay," I smile and take a step towards him before catching myself. I lower my eyes in embarrassment but still catch his questioning gaze. 

"Buffy Anne Summers!" Willow yells and we both chuckle. 

"Get goin', luv," Spike says and pushes me out the door. 

"Don't forget to call Dawn. Her number's on the fridge." 

"Get goin' why don't cha!" He waves me away and motions to slam the door, stopping at the last minute. "I'll go with you to get Watcher man, too. Just so long as he knows there will be no staking." 

"Right," I say and sashay down the hall, "no stakage." I hear him growl and feel his eyes on me. Looks like I won this round, too. Vegas better watch out, Buffy's on a roll. 

***

Spike twirled the piece of paper between his fingers nervously. Buffy and Willow had left not thirty minutes ago and he had ventured downstairs fifteen minutes afterwards, intent on finishing his latest work of poetry. 

"Bloody poofter I am," he muttered to the empty house. After the first month of having the soul, Spike had started dabbling into the fine arts of poetry, jotting down his thoughts, oblivious to rhyme or meter. In all honesty, the times where his lucidity was fleeting had produced his best work. In fact, Rachel had, on more than one occasion, suggested he look into getting them published. He had always dismissed her, citing his work with the club or some other lame excuse. But now that he was no longer running the day-to-day operations, he really didn't have an excuse. _Maybe I will ring her, take her up on that offer to find a publishing venue, _he thought before his attention re-focused on the seven digits written on the paper. 

Dawn. 

Her number was right between his fingertips, the phone on the counter, waiting patiently for him to dial. He was so nervous about talking to her. What did she want? Did she want to tell him to stay out of her life or that she wanted to mend things between them. Though she had said the latter yesterday, his mind ran wild with possible rejections that would further break his aching heart and that was something he didn't know if he could deal with. 

As much as he had changed in two years, underneath it all, he was still the same Spike (or was it William?) that craved love. Was that different than anyone else? Well, with the demon and its possessive nature, he would have said yes. But now, with a soul, though the possessiveness was not entirely gone, it was lessened considerable but that did not alleviate his desire to be loved purely. He wasn't foolish enough to think that he and Buffy would ever share a pure love, they were both too scarred from previous relationships and had hurt one another too much for that to happen. Not to say that if she did love him back that they wouldn't be spectacular together, but it wouldn't be pure. Not like Dawn's love. 

His Nibblet. 

Spike smiled at the thought of his grown up little girl. _Not so little anymore, _he mused. In two years she had transformed into the beautiful, vibrant woman he always knew she would be. In so many ways she was like Buffy, except without the baggage of the slayer. True, she did have Buffy's abilities, but she wasn't chosen to fight the apocalypses like her sister and, instead, was there as backup, never taking things on alone. She had become the person Buffy may have been if it weren't for being the Chosen One. 

"Doesn't matter," he whispered and set to dialing Dawn's cell number, "love them the way they turned out." He put the phone to his ear, his fingers tapping impatiently against the countertop. 

"I thought you were going shopping with Wills," Dawn's voice cut in after two rings. 

"Nib…Dawn, it's me, Spike," he said tentatively and heard the girl—young woman—on the other end suck in a sharp breathe.

"Spike, hey," she said and he mentally pictured her fiddling with her hair. 

"So, how did the graduation sleep over go?" 

"'Sleep over'? That term is so junior high, Spike," she replied and he grinned at her annoyance. 

"My mistake, Bit. So, how was the _Gathering,_" he asked sarcastically. 

"The _Gathering, _as you have so eloquently put it, was fun. Nothing better than a house full of high school seniors partying it up." 

"I'll bet," he smiled and silence was the only noise carrying through the phone lines. "So," he said after contemplation and quite a large amount of trepidation, "big sis says you wanted to ask me something important." 

"Oh, yeah," she said, worrying her lip with her teeth. "I, uh…tonight's the big graduation dinner. Buffy and the gang are taking me out."

"Oh," he said, not knowing what to say. _She'll probably ask me to stay out of their hair…_

"I was wondering," she continued, interrupting his thoughts, "if you…if you would come?" 

To say that Spike was shocked into speechlessness was an old-fashioned understatement. His mouth hung open and his eyes shone in disbelief. He completely ignored the sting behind his eyes that Dawn's sincere request had produced. His heartbeat continued its rampant attempts to break free from his ribcage in joy and he took several failed attempts to regain his bearings. 

"Earth to Willie-boy?" Dawn's teasing yet apprehensive voice clawed at him until he smiled bashfully to himself. 

"I'm here, Nibs. And yes, I'd be honored to be there for you."

"Great," she chirped, the little girl squeak slipping in before she sobered. "And maybe, afterwards, me and you—maybe we can talk." 

"Yeah, maybe we can. So long as Rupes doesn't skewer me when he steps off the plane." At that Dawn laughed. 

"Please, Spike. Giles would never do that." 

"After what I did…" he stopped, his emotions again getting the better of him. 

"Spike…" 

"So," he interrupted as he stood, "see you later?" 

Dawn smiled, knowing that her best friend wanted to change the subject and she obliged. "Yeah, see you later, _Randy_," she giggled before hanging up the phone. 

Spike stared at the receiver, his expression a mixture of pain and unkempt joy. The former was from the thought of facing another person that had known what he had done. Willow, though they had not gotten private time, had accepted him more readily than he deserved. There had been no disgust in her eyes, no anger in her voice when she had spoken to him. She had forgiven him, in every way, for everything he had ever done and Spike didn't know if he could handle that. That thought only made him think more of his growing trepidation at seeing the Watcher. Would Giles see him in contempt or offer him that same forgiveness? At that moment, Spike wasn't sure which response frightened him the most. 

Shaking his thoughts away from the looming reunion, he thought of the possibility of making amends with the only person (aside from Joyce—God, he missed her) who had always been kind to him, never judgmental. 

"My Nibblet," he said as he stared out the window as the sunlight flooded through the glass. He had hurt Buffy so much that night, showing her the monster that had always lurked beneath. But it was his human cowardice—running away—that had hurt her sister just as much, if not more. He still loved Buffy with all of his being and wanted nothing more than to have her love him, he would not lie to himself or to her, for that matter. But even as that was high on his list of priorities for this lifetime, the most important thing to him was his love for Dawn and the man he wanted to be for her. Someone she could look up to and depend on, someone who would never let her down. He would be that man, no matter what it took. He had already failed her on the tower and then when he ran away. 

He would not do it again. 

***This is a short chapter by "Do" standards, but the next one will be back to the lengthy pieces. Buffy and Willow do some bonding over shopping before the gang goes to get Giles at the airport. How will he react to Spike? And the beginnings of the dinner. And yes, Garrett will be there. Stay tuned for some interesting developments in the coming chapters. 


	13. Part XIII

Do What You Have to Do

Part XIII

"So," Willow chirped as she and Buffy settled into their seats at the Expresso Pump. They had spent the better part of three hours perusing the mall, searching for just the right outfits for Dawn's graduation dinner tonight as well as the festivities the following day. They had been too lost in their shopping fancies to talk about the slayer's current guy situation or, that was what Buffy told herself. In truth, she had been procrastinating telling her anxious best friend's of the previous night's developments—developments that had the blond a confused, emotional mess inside though she concealed her distress as well as ever. 

"So, what?" She asked, pretending to be engrossed in the café's menu selections. She bit her lip as Willow's eyes bore into her and it was only a matter of time before…

"Hey!" Buffy yelled indignantly when Willow snatched the menu out of her hands. "I was looking at that." 

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance, clearly not amused with Buffy's attempts at distracting Willow from questioning her about recent events.

"Whatever," the Wicca said, waving her hand between them. "You already know what you're going to get. Every time we come here you get the same thing."

"Well," Buffy held her head up in defiance before finishing "maybe I wanna try something new for once." She knew it was lame but it was the only thing she could think of. Of course, when she saw the beaming smile that Willow gave her, Buffy knew her best friend's mind had found an in. 

"So, you wanna try something new?" Buffy nodded hesitantly, uncomfortable with Willow's sudden change in attitude. 

"Well," The Wicca continued, "that must mean that something in your life has given you so much stress that your usual cup o' mocha goodness cannot contain. So," she lowered her eyes coyly and drew circles with her finger on her napkin, "I'm thinking that something mondolicious happened between you and the former Big Bad." 

Buffy's eyes bugged momentarily and her lips parted to deny it but that particular reply was snuffed with a pointed glare from Willow. Sighing in defeat, Buffy stared into the dark liquid, watching the ripples carry through it as she played with her stirring straw. "Careful, Wills," she said, "I don't think Spike would like being referred to as the 'former' Big Bad."

Willow's gentle chuckle elicited a matching sound from Buffy and the blond finally looked up from her cup. "Please, Buff. Spike hasn't been the Big Bad since—oh, well, I could see where he wouldn't like to be reminded of that fact." 

"Yeah." 

"But he was still the Big Bad in the demon-y world," she amended and Buffy couldn't help but smile at her friend's propensity to gush. 

"Wills," Buffy interrupted. 

"I know, I'm babbling." They shared another laugh before Willow turned serious eyes back to the slayer. "Okay, Buffy, enough stalling. What's going on between you and Spike?" 

Buffy laughed humorlessly. "You just get straight to the point, don't you?" 

"Because I know how you are." On Buffy's look, Willow smiled reassuringly. "I've known you for eight years, Buffy and I've noticed a few quirks about you." 

"And oh what quirks would those be?" The slayer deadpanned. 

"The one I'm referring to now is your desire to always want to appear to be in control. You don't want to worry others with your problems, so you try to deal with them yourself—especially if said problems appear to you as something that will alter your friends' opinion of you. So, instead of using one of us as a sounding board, you tend to internalize everything until it becomes one big jumbled up pile inside of you." Willow studied her best friend and noticed the resigned look of defeat in Buffy's hazel eyes. Deciding to strike now, Willow continued. 

"I mean, I know there are things that we all keep to ourselves but, Buffy," she reached out and squeezed her friend's hand, "you do that with the most important things. I know you've been better about it the past two years. Hell, better is not the word for it. But I can still see that there are things that you're holding back on. And I don't think it's a stretch to assume that those particulars have to do with a certain ex-neck biter."

Buffy smiled at the affection Willow displayed in with her un-PC term for Spike's former status. She squeezed Willow's hand, keeping it in her grasp for support as her other hand wafted through her hair. 

Willow was right about everything. Even with her new openness, she often had trouble expressing her more intimate feelings, especially where Spike was concerned. Rarely had she talked about him these past two years, though her thoughts drifted to him constantly. But even when she did discuss him with someone, it was always abbreviated, never delving into the feelings she truly had—feelings that were resurfacing with a vengeance. She knew that, being the slayer, she had strength within her no one else possessed; a strength of body and spirit only the Chosen One had been granted. But her mind and emotions were just as human as anyone else's was. In her heart Buffy knew that with the things she had to face every night that, she, more than anyone needed the support and understanding of a non-judging ear. Spike had been that ear though she didn't dare discuss with him her feelings about him. That particular she had laid on Tara until the witch had been taken from them so prematurely. When she had talked to Willow about things, the redhead had been the one to lay it all out, allowing Buffy to agree or disagree, and she never elaborated. That was how she had wanted it earlier but Willow had told her that she wanted to hear it from Buffy's lips and the slayer was afraid of unlocking things she had shut away two years ago. Things that had begun to unlock themselves for the past few months. 

"You're right," Buffy sighed and expected to see Willow smile at her. Instead, she was met with a sympathetic nod, the witch's love and support radiating from green eyes. It gave Buffy the courage to open up completely.

"I missed him so much, Wills," she confessed, her eyes displaying a sadness Willow had last seen in Buffy the year of her resurrection. "I mean, even when I started falling hard for Garrett, it was like a part of me was missing. It's so hard to explain, I don't know if I can…" 

"You don't have to," Willow interrupted and Buffy nodded her understanding. Willow knew exactly what it was like to have a piece of you go missing. First when Oz left and then the time Tara had left and her subsequent murder. If anyone knew what she was feeling, aside from Spike, it was Willow. 

"Anyway, after being with Garrett for awhile, I started paving over that hole in my chest. That hole that had been ripped up by Angel and made bigger by my dad, Parker and Riley." The slayer hung her head, the grief threatening to overwhelm her though she knew instinctively that, once she got it all out, things would be come clearer. 

"When I came back, there were so many holes in me, that that particular one was adrift in the maze. It wasn't until Giles left that I remembered that it was there. And it hurt. It was like the stitches my resurrection put over it had been ripped out and that hole was open again, reminding me of all my failed relationships with men, whether it was romantic or fatherly. I didn't think you guys could understand and I knew what you guys would say if I did come to you. I don't think I would have been able to hear someone say 'it'll get better' or 'it could be worse' without losing it."

"So you went to Spike," Willow chimed in. She had heard this story before though it had been grossly edited. She knew this was the real Buffy, the one that had been emerging the past two years. The Buffy that grabbed life around the neck, that didn't keep things hidden within her. Willow knew the burgeoning confession would be hard and tears would be involved but she also knew that Buffy would be a stronger person once it was over. Not only that, but maybe, just maybe, she would figure out what Willow had known for sometime. 

Buffy was head over heels in love with Spike. 

***

It's quarter to six by the time anyone gets back home. For the last four hours, I've been trying to keep my patience waiting for the girls to get back home. S'not like I haven't been productive today. In fact, productive is not a strong enough word to describe my afternoon alone in casa de Summers. I've set a few appointments with realtors next week to check out some flats around town. The apartment guide I picked up when Buffy and I went out yesterday showcased some posh living quarters though there were only four that really piqued my curiosity. Thankfully, three of them are across town while the other one is the condo complex that used to be the warehouse district that used to be my old hiding spot. The reason I took to the ones across town was that in case Buffy stays with that Garrett bloke, I can be far enough away from her so that I won't see her much but close enough to be called in as the cavalry when needed. I know it may be a negative way of thinking but even if something does happen between us we'll at least have some space to figure out where we wanna go. 

Speaking of space, I got a chance to talk to Rachel for the first time since Thursday night. I didn't know how much I missed talking to her until today. This is the longest I've gone without seeing her in the last two years, considering I can count on one hand how many days I didn't see her in that same time frame. She pitched to me an idea about franchising and I have to admit it's a damn good one. God knows Sunny Hell needs something like the _Blue Song _here, what with all the bloody stress nights bring. She was even progressive enough to make a few calls Friday inquiring about lot vacancies here. Told me about three prospective sites and I set the appointments today. Sure wished she were here to do the negotiating since my patience isn't one for that. Hell, if it were up to me, I'd do my best impersonation of Dutch Schulz and start proceedings with a forty-five in front of me, gangster like. Hell, two years ago I'd just show a little game face and I'd have my way but as it is, I really can't go that route. 

Aside from the business aspects of things and having her confirm that my car would be here Monday instead of Wednesday, I did some writing. I know, I am a poofter to the nth degree but, after last night and this morning, I had to get some things out on paper. I'm still surprised that they weren't bloody pathetic like they used to be. To be honest, the more I went over them, the more I started thinking about Rachel's idea. I didn't ask her though, in case I change me mind. Plus I want someone else to read it—maybe Red or Rupert; of course, all that is on the stipulation that he doesn't go Ripper on me and skewer me down center. Even if I survive our initial re-acquaintance, there's still tonight to worry about. 

"About Bloody time you chits get here," I snarl as Willow, Dawn and Buffy walk in the door. Their laughter dies down and they regard the person who would dare interrupt their conversation with a frigid stare. I watch as their stares melt as they take me in and I can't help but fidget under their appreciative gaze. 

"Spike," Buffy sighs as her eyes roam across my body. I smile before noticing the same stares from Red and Dawn and can't help the flush that bursts across 

my face. I'm wearing black leather loafers with matching black shirt that Rachel once joked as being 'nothing but a condom for your upper body'. So it's tight, sue me. My white silk pants and a matching unbuttoned vest complete the ensemble. I decided to go clean cut on this occasion and I've gone with the tousled look with my hair. I have to admit that I look pretty damn good—every time I've gone out in this get up, I've been the proverbial eye candy for the opposite sex. I know I'm not lacking in confidence but…but with the way Red and Niblet, _especially _Niblet, are looking at me, I feel myself reverting to William the Bloody awful poet. 

Thankfully, Buffy breaks the ogle fest. "Dawn, Willow," she says, her hands on her hips, "try not to drool on the carpet." They both look at her and then back to me before they both flame red like I was earlier—serves 'em right, though I have to admit they look so cute like that. 

"Uh, I…uh," Dawn stutters and Willow tries for the save. 

"We…were admiring…No, I mean, just—Spike in the sun. In white. You know how the sun reflects off of white and how that white kinda sets off his

eyes and…I don't mean his eyes I mean…" I chuckle when she sighs and mumbles something about getting ready and retreats upstairs followed by an equally mortified Dawn. Me and Buffy listen to their retreat before we face each other. When I look into her eyes, the desire I saw not sixty seconds earlier is still there but that's not what grabs my attention. Something is different about her; like a burden's been lifted from her shoulders and I can only smile at her. At this moment, she looks like that same sixteen-year-old girl I saw dancing at the Bronze all those years ago, before slaying became a true burden, before she experienced her first heartache. Though I didn't know it then, that was when I fell in love with her for the first time. 

And now, seeing her like this, I can't help but fall in love with her all over again. 

"Thanks for the save, luv," I say, my smile devoid of all smirkiness. Balls, I just said 'smirkiness'. What the bloody hell is going on with me?

"You're welcome," she says softly and her eyelashes do this fluttery thing that makes me want to scream her name from the rafters and tell her just how much I love her. "Just saw that you were in need of the bail out is all." 

"Yeah," I can't help but chuckle, "the way those two were…the way my Niblet was lookin' at me…" I trail off, shaking my head. 

"C'mon, Spikey," Buffy teases and she glides over to me. She stops beside me and nudges me with her hip. "You know she had the biggest crush on you." 

I smile sadly, my thoughts on a time where me and Dawn were as close I as I've ever been with anyone. That was a time where, in her eyes, I'd done nothing wrong. But everything's changed now. 

"Yeah, everything has changed," Buffy says and I realize I said the last part out loud. The sympathetic look she gives me tells me that she knows exactly what I'm thinking about. "But one thing that hasn't changed, Spike," she lays a hand on my shoulder and a heated tingle races across my skin. "She still loves you. Always has. Always will. Nothing's gonna change that." She leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek before walking towards the steps. 

I watch as she turns the corner and out of my view and, shoving my hands in my pockets, I sigh. I walk over to the window and peer out at the sun reflecting off the cars, some of its light bleeding through to the living room. Even after two years, I can't get over the fact that I can walk into the sun, and I don't think I ever will. Seeing the sun again--sans the Ring of Amarra--was something I thought I'd never do. Of course, that falls into a long line of things 'Spike'll never do'. Falling in love with the slayer's definitely numero uno on that fantastic list. Getting a soddin' soul and taking a walk on the side of humanity was a two-for-one deal. Can't say I mind considering that, after a hundred and twenty plus years, blood was getting to be a little too stale for my tastes. 

Running a hand through my hair, I chuckle at my last thought. Never did I think I'd crave anything more than blood, least of all not the slayer. But like Buffy said, things change, sometimes for the better. Other times not. I know Bit still loves me, but her opinion of me has probably changed, too and I'm pretty sure it's not for the better. Thing is, I'm terrified to find out for sure. 

We arrive at the airport about ten till six. Willow and Dawn rode together, as did Buffy and me. When we got there, Xander was already there. Buffy had told me that Garrett was going to meet us at the restaurant, some new joint five miles away from the airport. Not that I'm afraid, but not having that Garrett bloke here suits me just fine. Don't need the only three males in the group laying into me all at once. 

I take a seat next to Willow and we start shootin' the shit, never really getting into anything although I can read her eyes and she really wants to talk about…other things. I do, too. In fact I need it as much as she does. Plus I wanna tell her how much I miss Glinda. She was a good bird and when I found out about what happened, I couldn't help but shed a tear for her. If Willow hadn't killed that bastard Warren, he would have found out just why I got my nickname…

Twenty minutes later, a throng of people walk onto the concourse, bags in hand, tweed suits neatly buttoned. Definitely Brits. 

It takes a few minutes before Giles comes into view and, without hesitation, Willow, Dawn and Buffy mob him. I watch the seen in amusement though it dies down when Xander walks past me. I can see he's still in pain from our fight the other day and a part of me feels bad though the other part is proud that I didn't put him through the wall. He throws me for a loop by giving me a curt nod before walking over to the Watcher. I can only gape at his gesture—there was no sign of hatred in his eyes, dislike, yeah—but no hatred. I shake the thought off and sigh, joining the others as I mentally prepare myself for the Wrath of Giles. 

"It's good to see you all," Giles says as he finishes greeting the Scoobies by clasping Xander on the back. I watch the love filter through his gaze as he looks at each of them in turn and I feel a little envious of it. When Willow pulled the memory mojo on all of us, I remember how it felt when I thought that Giles was my father. Sure, I talked a big game, as always, but deep down all I wanted was his respect and approval. It was something I had a hard time admitting to myself as a vampire and, even now, I have trouble thinking about it—especially since I will never have his respect. 

" 'Lo, Rupe," I say, my smirk backing my false bravado. Giles turns to me and the surprise in his eyes is quickly consumed by anger and…disappointment? My smirk falters for a moment and Giles responds by concealing his own emotions. 

"Spike," he returns and nods woodenly. Everyone's eyes are on us as we stare at one another, communicating without words. The anger that's bubbling within him, just below the surface dives a little further down as he notices the light shining through the window and directly onto me. It's comical to see Rupert's eyes bug out and I catch Buffy shooting me a smile and my own smirk broadens. 

"It's a long story," Buffy states before Giles has a chance to ask about my new sunful condition. "A story that will have to wait until later," Her voice is firm and Giles nods but not before removing his glasses and polishing them furiously with a handkerchief. 

"Yes, well…" he mutters and peeks through the lenses before placing them back onto his face and his eyes twinkle with happiness once more. "It is a special night as tomorrow will also be special." His smile towards Dawn and the subsequent arm he wrapped around her is a something that only a father would do and I realize now that it's not just Buffy, or even Dawn, that Giles sees as his children. It's all the Scoobies. I grin at the reunion, happy for them all, though the envy within me grows and blisters until it burns me within. 

Once, just once, I wish someone would look at me that way, accept me with such open arms. 

As we walk back towards the car and I glance towards Dawn who is talking animatedly with Giles, I can't help but to feel an overwhelming rage within me. Not at them but at myself. The fact of the matter is that I did have someone who accepted me for the monster that I was, who never looked down upon me. Dawn always had a kind word or a warm smile for me. But of course I bollocks'd it up by 'urtin Buffy and runnin' away like the ponce I had always been. 

Yeah, _William, _you cocked-up everything. The thing that 'urts the most is that, no matter what happens from here on, she'll never look at me the same again. And that is something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. 

***

When they walked into the restaurant, Spike whistled. Never would he have thought that a fine establishment such as _The Velvet Rope _(soddin' stupid name) would have been only a stone's throw from Sunnyhell. But it was here and the number of people seated throughout sparked ideas of expanding his own bar into his mind. 

The place wasn't quite out in the middle of nowhere though it was far enough away from Sunnydale to comfortably call the drive an 'outing'. It was a perfect location for those who wanted to get away from the strange rumblings of unknowingly living on a Hellmouth for a few days as a very posh hotel stood next to the _Rope. _

As his eyes traveled across the patrons, he recognized that everyone was dressed quite elegantly. It was not quite formal wear though there were definitely no jeans or sneakerwear permitted within. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Spike followed the others as the maitre d escorted them to a reserved room. Giles had rode with he and Buffy and Spike relinquished the front seat to the Watcher. He had remained quiet the whole time, content on listening to Buffy ramble on towards her father figure. He watched as Giles had smiled warmly at Buffy though he noticed that when she wasn't sliding her eyes over towards the gray-haired man, Ripper cast hard, inquisitive eyes at him in the rearview mirror. Spike knew that Giles was holding back the questions _and _actions he wanted to pummel the vampire with and Buffy also knew that, too. Spike saw how she gripped the steering wheels, her knuckles whitening, that her conversation was a means of saving Spike's ass from a potential Ripper tirade. 

As it was, after they had arrived, Giles gave Spike a pointed look that said 'we **will **talk' and the former vampire had nodded his assent. He couldn't help but laugh after the fact, though, considering that he needed to schedule time for each and every Scoobie. 

_Course, the Niblet's first on that list, _he thought ruefully as the finally arrived at the reserved room. He moved to sit down but a gentle hand on his arm caused him to look up. 

"Sit by me," Dawn said, her voice shy and hopeful. As much as he didn't believe he deserved it, Spike saw the love and adoration the youngest Summers still held for him glistening in her eyes. Not trusting his voice to sound over the lump that materialized in throat, he nodded and followed her towards the end of the table. 

Taking a moment, Spike regarded the young woman in front of him. Her midnight blue dress accented her curves though it was not what he would call inappropriate. A silver chain with a matching bracelet and sapphire earrings that complimented her dress and shoes made up the rest of her ensemble. Her hair was curled and bounced on her shoulders when she sat down. She had kept the make-up to a minimum and still she was radiant. Spike smiled to himself, knowing that if he had met her now, Buffy may never have gotten a second look. 

Speaking of the slayer, Spike marveled at her simple elegance as she joked with Xander. She wore a long white skirt that stopped just above her ankles and clung to the delicate curves of her hips while a spaghetti-strapped gray blouse that complimented her chest was the second article. A silver bracelet was snaked around her left bicep and two diamond earrings were barely visibly from under her free flowing hair. 

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Giles whispered in his ear and Spike had to force himself from jumping away. 

"Cor, she is," he responded, though his eyes darted warily from the slayer to her Watcher. 

"She has grown so much in the years I have known her. She is the daughter that I will never have," Spike felt Giles's eyes turn on him and the ex-vampire met the sharp, dangerous eyes that were encased behind glasses. "A daughter that I will do anything for."

" S'nothing I don't already know, Rupes," Spike replied flippantly, though he couldn't help the butterflies that danced in his stomach as he was introduced to the infamous Ripper. 

"Than you also know that if anything…and I do mean _anything…_happens to her while you are hear, William, I will hold you personally responsible and act accordingly. Do I make myself clear?" The smile that Giles gave him was one that Spike doubted Angelus could match and he shivered involuntarily at the promises Giles words held. 

"Crystal," Spike replied after a moment's silence. Giles nodded and patted him on the back before turning his attention to Willow. 

"So," Dawn nudged his are with her elbow, "what did he say?" Spike couldn't hold back the grin at seeing her beautiful blue eyes wide in anticipation. 

"Only that, despite my current status as one of the living, shall I desire to remain so, I will behave." He chuckled at the 'o' her lips formed and instinctively traced her jaw with his knuckles. He was surprised when she leaned into it and she spoke so only he could hear it. 

"Don't think you're done getting the threats," she warned, her voice steady, "because we still have to talk. Like tonight." Her voice wavered on the last part and Spike took the opportunity to take her mind away from things. 

"That we do, Niblet," he said and raised up enough to kiss her on the top of her head, "but first, we're going to celebrate your graduation." His heart expanded when she smiled at him and Spike threw her a wink before turning towards Buffy who had finally taken her seat across from him. 

"So," he said, absently playing with his napkin, "been here before?"

Buffy couldn't help but smile at Spike's nervousness. Usually, during their 'relationship', she had been the one who would fidget and avert her eyes. This new change in Spike, the way he went from sure and cocky to shy and uncertain was a wrinkle but it was a wrinkle she kind of liked. 

"Yeah," she said cheerily, "it's Garrett's favorite place and…" she stopped when she realized what she said and dropped her eyes to the table. 

Spike was surprised at how much it hurt to hear her talk about Garrett with so much enthusiasm. Yeah, by their conversation last night, he knew Buffy loved the guy; still, it didn't make things any easier. He forced the dagger of pain away and coaxed a smile onto his face. 

"Well, guess I can scratch this off my list of places to take my honey," Buffy's head shot up, her hazel eyes wide and her cheeks flaming. Finally, after realizing they weren't alone, Buffy gave him a tentative smile. 

"Guess so," she replied and almost burst out laughing at the shock evident on his face. 

"So," Spike said to Buffy after a few minutes of idle talk. "Bank boy coming anytime soon?" he queried nodded towards the empty seat next to the slayer. 

"He should be here soon," Buffy replied while she wrung her hands incessantly under the table. She was very nervous at the moment and, considering that her fiancé (of a sort) was coming but also the ex she had just made out with not twenty hours ago was sitting directly across from her, she had good reason to be just a tad uncomfortable. Couple that with the fact that, aside from Willow, the others knew nothing about said make-out session, Buffy wasn't sure she could stand up under the guilt. 

_God, what am I gonna do? _She thought as her eyes drifted to the door again. _I mean, one look at Garrett and I know I'm gonna freak out. What am I gonna say to him? How am I gonna act? _The questions whirled unbidden through her mind and she didn't see the bronze-skinned man stroll into the room. 

"Evenin', Scoobs," Garrett greeted cheerily and everyone looked up at him. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit and he held his jacket casually over his shoulder. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up, exposing powerful forearms and his tie hung loosely around his unbuttoned collar. 

"Hey G," Xander addressed the man and cursed when Garrett ran a hand through the brunette's hair. "Damn it, Garrett, you know I hate when you do that." 

"I know," he said and gave Willow a kiss on the cheek, "that's why I do it." Spike caught the mischievous gleam in his gray eyes and couldn't hold back a chuckle and again he was struck with the fancy that, if circumstances were different, he and Garrett would most likely have gotten along. 

"Hey, baby," Garrett said to Buffy and swooped down for a kiss. At the last moment, he caught himself and instead of the lips, planted a kiss on her cheek. He cursed himself for the slipup and the fact that the others would definitely know something was going on. 

Placing his coat on the back of his chair, Garrett ignored the suspicious looks of Giles and Xander as well as the--sympathetic? --Eyes of Willow. 

"Hey, D," Garrett winked at Dawn before coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her neck. 

"Garrett, air," she joked, slapping him on the thigh. He pulled away in mock pain, muttering something about the strength of slayer genes being passed down. 

Spike was in his own world, trying to distance himself from his continual feelings of respect he had for Garrett when he caught an outstretched hand in front of him. Looking up, he saw Garrett, whose face held genuine respect, waiting for Spike to take his hand. With only the slightest hesitation, Spike shook hands with the man who then made his way over to Giles. 

Spike risked a glance around the table and caught all the Scoobies eyeing him and Garrett. His eyes dropped before he could discern the conflicting emotions that stared back at him. He fingered the silver ring on his right finger, studying the glint of light of its shiny surface. He caught Garrett finally taking a seat next to Buffy and noticed the minute shift of Buffy towards Garrett. Spike's heart cracked at the gesture, knowing that it wasn't something Buffy did on purpose, rather on instinct. It only proved to him even more that Buffy truly did love Garrett. 

Spike turned towards Dawn when he felt her hand brush across his arm, her eyes full of concern. He smiled tightly though Dawn wasn't fooled. She nodded and turned back to the conversation between Buffy and Garrett. Spike did the same, though he feigned interest in what the Watcher was saying to Red and the Whelp. But try as he might, he could not shake the feeling that, once again, he didn't deserve Buffy, that he didn't deserve to love her. 

His confidence had wavered and, like Cecily and Drusilla, Spike found himself as the runner up. It didn't matter whether he had a soul or not--it would all turn out the same regardless. 

It all boiled down to him not being good enough and, the quicker he accepted it, the better off he would be. 

***Hey, sorry I didn't get into things like I wanted but this was to set up the next chapter or two. There will be a Spike/Dawn convo as well as a Buffy/Garrett conversation. It'll be interesting time. 

***I'm not sure whether I will have the next chapter up by Tuesday. I want to finish Family Ties first--that has two chapters plus an epilogue to come. 


	14. Interlude

Do What You Have to Do

Interlude

The Dinner

One thing that Spike loathed about high-class restaurants were the lack of simple food items on the menu. They rarely carried dishes that did not have either 1) five or more syllables 2) accents over every third letter or 3) were just plain weird. The current establishment that he was dining in didn't carry the Bloomin' Onion. Not only had he made his disgruntled mood known to the waiter but the six other people sitting at the table as well. 

"I mean, you'd think a fine establishment such as this," he said, heavy on the sarcasm with a light sprinkle of dissatisfaction, "would at least have the bloody decency to have it. S'not like it's gonna kill the blighters to put one little extra on their big, shiny menu, now would it?" He capped the rant off by waving said menu in the air, his disgust evident. 

"Yeah," Dawn said in a much too chipper voice, "and while they're at it, for a side item why not throw Cheetos on the list, cuz, hey, gotta have the cheesy goodness." Her bright smile dissolved into a fit of giggles at Spike's indignant huff. 

"Thanks a lot, Niblet. Thought you'd be on my side, at least," he admonished and hung his head in an attempt to gain sympathy. The unexpected gesture knocked everyone at the table off kilter and it took them a minute to recover. By the time they did, the impish grin on Spike's face had everyone lost in laughter. 

The laughter died down as the waiter set down the appetizers on the table. "Not one to back up the ex-bleached dead boy," Xander supplied as he examined the roach-like shells of the mussels that were set before him, "but it couldn't hurt if they, you know, introduced food that the common folk could enjoy." His last words were punctuated by experimental pokes at the mussels. 

"Y'see," Spike said warily at Xander's statement, " 'M not the only one who thinks that this place is lacking a certain amount of—manliness." 

"Of course," Giles deadpanned, "what would a five-star restaurant be without cheap American beer and peanut shells littering the walkways." 

"Don't forget the blaring of music by bands chosen solely for their ability to dance," Buffy interjected, an all too familiar smirk etched in her features. 

"Hey!" Dawn protested. "That is so not true. Justin can really sing—he just can dance good, too." 

"Dawnie's right," Willow supported, "he can sing. It's just those other nefarious tag-alongs that lack true vocals."

"That's not true," the teen argued. "Lance…Lance Bass can sing." 

"But I thought you said the only reason you liked him was because he reminded you of…" Buffy began but was interrupted by a squealing and decidedly embarrassed Dawn. 

"You're right, Giles," she hurried, "they can't sing. Don't you agree, Buffy?" She asked and shot her sister an equally menacing and pleading look. 

"Well," the slayer teased, "I guess so. Still, I think you were…"

"So, Spike," the former Key said, turning poignantly towards her former crush, "Buffy said you were in San Diego. What were you doing there?" 

A part of the Big Bad still left in him whispered to continue the assault on the teen but the desperate eyes that stared back at him were too much and Spike knew that Dawn's pleading look was his kryptonite. Resigning himself to be wrapped around the youngest Summers's finger for the rest of his natural life, Spike answered her question. 

"Well, actually, San Diego was a stopover for my transport to Africa."

"Africa?" Xander asked and Spike was surprised at the genuine curiosity not to mention the toned down hostility coming from the brunette. "I mean, in your original persuasion, wouldn't a place like Africa be, oh I don't know, the last place on earth you'd wanna be?" 

Spike chuckled at Xander's question though the humor died from his eyes as he answered truthfully. "To be honest, Harris, anyplace was better than being here," he pointed to his head, "and here," then laid his hand over his chest. Sensing that everyone knew what he was referring to, he immediately switched topics in an effort to lighten the mood lest he be the target of angry stares that he knew he still deserved. 

"Anyway, found my own personal transporter." 

"I knew they had _Star Trek_ technology _somewhere,"_ he muttered and aloud, "so, did it look like the ones they have on _Stark Trek_?" Garrett was the only one to respond as the others merely rolled their eyes. 

"Uh, Xan," he said as if talking to a three-year-old, "we live in what's called the real world. Now, repeat after me; 'Star Trek is not real. It is a product of one Gene Roddenbery's imagination. There are no Klingons, Romulans or Ferengis.'" He finished by giving the Construction Supervisor a placating smile that was returned with a not-so pleasant hand gesture. 

"Bet people said the same thing about demons and vampires back in the day," a defeated Xander muttered. 

"Anyway, as I was sayin'," the former vampire continued, "t'was a bloke there that took to such transportationally deficient denizens of the underworld such as myself." 

"Wow, Spike," Buffy joked, "never heard you speak so well of yourself before." She batted her curved eyelashes at him and it was all that he could not to jump over the table and finish what they had started the night before. 

"Well, what can I say?" He sneered before drowning out her laughter with his voice. "Anyway, this wanker's like 'I'll drop ya right off in Africa and bring ya back, too.' 'Course, the stipulation was me possessing something to trade." His eyes narrowed at the mussel he held between his fingertips before slamming his head back and devouring the meat trapped inside the shell. 

"Well it just so happens that this particular gateway demon's pretty partial to any sort o' transportation with two wheels." 

"So this demon," Giles interrupted, "whose ability to open portals that bridge halfway across the world is a…motorcycle collector?"

"Got it in one, Rupes. So I go to him, tell 'im where I want to go and what I'm willin' to trade and he's like okay. I ask him if it's a two-way thing and he says yeah, that he'll bring me back and I'm like great. Gave me this crystal to break when I was ready to come back. So, he does his mojo and conjures the portal and as I'm walkin' thru, he throws this soddin' caveat about not being entirely accurate. Bloody ponce threw me in the middle of nowhere with about two hours to sunset. 'Ad to run for my bloody unlife to find shelter before the sun came up. Barely made it, too. 

"Anyway, after I passed the trials, went to the same place I was dropped off, broke the amulet he gave me and was whisked back in good old California. 'Course, I landed about an hour outside of San Diego but it was no big."

"So what happened," Willow asked, "after you got there? I mean did…did you feel guilty a-about the things you had done?" 

"God, yes," he whispered as the thought of how that first month had felt. All the people that had died at his hands, having their lives drained from them by his sharp teeth ripping into their flesh. Mentally shaking himself from the memories, Spike continued again but forced a lilt of joviality to his tone. 

"Anyway, I wasn't in San Diego even a week before I met Rachel." At the mention of the raven-haired woman that Spike had kissed on stage, Buffy snorted unconsciously.

"Rachel? Who's she?" Dawn intervened, her eyes darting between that of an obviously jealous sister and an equally amused ex-vampire. So concerned with the two former lovers that Dawn, as well as the others, missed the flash of pain that crossed over Garrett's face. 

"Whoa," Xander whistled, "ex-dead boy's got a main squeeze? You cheeky devil you." Spike glared at Xander for several seconds before bursting into a silly grin. He wasn't naïve enough to think that he and the whelp'd be best buds but the hostility in the brunette's eyes was a little less sharp, a bit more understanding. And though he'd die a thousand times before admitting it, Spike kind of liked it. 

"Rachel was co-owner of the _Blue Song _with me. Like I said, ran into her about a week after getting to San Diego. Gave me a place to stay till I could suss things out."

"Did she know about your previous incarnation?" Giles asked hesitantly. 

"Yep. Told her everything," Spike said and made brief eye contact with Buffy before turning his attention towards everyone else.

"So, this Rachel," Xander quipped, "was she crazy or a ditz? Cuz, to be honest, Spike, your track record with women isn't…so good," the last part was whispered as six sets of eyes pinned him with death glares. Suddenly, the mussels became quite an interesting item. 

"So you told her everything?" Garrett asked, getting back on track. On Spike's nod, he continued. "How did she take it?"

"Wasn't surprised actually. That's not to say that San Diego is the hotspot for demon kind like SunnyD and Hell-A, but I've seen my fair share of hell raisers there and she had too."

"So, did wonder woman do any fighting?" Buffy asked with a light edge of sarcasm. 

Spike smiled inwardly at her muted jealousy but did nothing to show that he'd heard it. "Actually, bout a year after we bought the club, she did tag along with me one night. Almost ended up as a tasty treat." He barely contained his mirth when he saw Buffy mouth 'too bad', oblivious of Spike staring at her lips. Luckily, not even Garrett had caught her slip and Spike decided to file it away for future torment, er, reference. 

"Okay," Dawn piped up, "rewind back a year. What happened when you two met? How did you get the bar? And what's gonna happen to it now that you're gone and when can I go see it?" Spike smiled at the rapidity of her questions and held his hands up in defense. 

"Slow down, Niblet," he recommended. "Give a bloke a chance to form an answer." He patted her arm affectionately as he spoke and she beamed at his touch. 

"To answer the first question, we just seemed to connect that first day. Bumped into 'er outside her flat, I did. Don't know what, but she saw somethin' in me, hiked me up to her place before I had nary a word to say. I was still disoriented, mind you and that's when I started babbling. Told her everything. S'all I did that first week—that and cry," the last word was spoken so quietly that everyone had to strain their ears to piece it together. 

"Anyway," he continued, oblivious to the concerned stares, "she really helped me along, even convinced me to come back 'ere."

"Wait a minute," Dawn interjected, "I thought you came back because Buffy found you." 

Spike winced at the confusion in Dawn's tone and knew she wouldn't like what he had to say. Taking a deep breath, he explained. "Did come back, Niblet. 'Bout a month after I left."

"You came back?" She asked incredulously and he nodded. "And you didn't come to see us? See me?" The pain he saw in her beautiful blue eyes rocked Spike's resolve and he barely contained his guilt. 

"I—I'll explain later, Dawn," he replied in all seriousness and she only smiled at him. No one was fooled by the false cheer she applied and Spike knew that the little tidbit of information might have set his reconciliation with her back a few steps. 

"So," Willow spoke up, "how did you get the bar?"

"Well," Spike said, grateful for the reprieve, "when me and 'Night started talking…"

" 'Night'?" Buffy asked arching an eyebrow. 

" 'S'my nickname for her cuz her hair was so dark. Eyes too." 

"That's original," the slayer muttered and crossed her arms petulantly. 

"That it isn't, Goldilocks," he emphasized the last part and Buffy blushed furiously at the implication. "But like I said, when we got to talkin', she suggested I turn back to poetry and…" 

"Wait," Xander interrupted, "did you say turn _back _to poetry? When were you ever _into _it?"

Spike tried to hide the embarrassment at his first mortal life but failed miserably and a red flush coated his cheeks. "S'not important," he grumbled, "the important thing is that she gave me an idea to do somethin' with myself. So, I took the money I 'ad saved up and…" 

"You had money saved up?" Giles asked, removing his glasses. 

"How much?" Garrett questioned. 

"Bloody 'ell, people. Contrary to popular belief, some of us vampires—well, ex-vampires—some of us do have the soddin' initiative to save a pound here and there. And here I thought the lot of you were above the stereotypes associated with creatures of the night," he reprimanded. 

"Oh yeah," Buffy replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Because you 'creatures of the night' aren't into the whole destruction and mayhem thing. Or the whole drink blood, allergic to sunlight issues and you never cheat at kitten poker."

"Kitten poker…?" Dawn asked but Buffy didn't hear her. 

"And you most certainly don't mooch off a slayer and her watcher for cash just to help." When she was done, Buffy crossed her legs roughly, bumping the table and rolled her eyes. 

"So," Giles said, eyeing his surrogate daughter warily, "this whole time, you've had money that you could have been using to purchase your own goods and yet you extorted…"

" 'Extort' is such an ugly word, Rupes," the Brit drawled, smirk firmly entrenched across his face. 

"Then what would you call it?" The Watcher demanded. 

"I'd say it was a fair exchange of goods and services. Ask demon-girl, bet she'd appreciate my capitalistic forthrightness," he smiled though a blush threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of his last time with Anya. 

"Whatever," Buffy grunted before fixing Spike with a radiant--and quite fake--smile. "So when do we all get a tour of the place because I'd love to see the ins and outs of it." 

"Well, pet," Spike goaded, "thought you already took the short tour." 

"But Spike," she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and batting her eyes at Spike, "I so have to meet your wonderful friend." 

"You saw her, Buff?" Xander asked ignoring the slayer's escalating attitude. 

Seeing that she was being addressed directly, Buffy's attitude dropped two levels and she turned to Xander. "Yeah, she was on stage with him." 

"On stage?" Willow pried. "As in singing on stage?" 

"As in Spike singing on stage?" Dawn grinned. 

"Yes," Buffy answered with a genuine smile, "Spike was singing and playing the guitar." 

All eyes turned towards the blonde-tipped head of the former vampire that wanted nothing more than to crawl underneath the table. 

"Who'da thunk it," Xander quipped, shaking his head, "Mr. Big Bad making with the American Idol. I have officially heard it all." 

"Actually," Buffy said, "he didn't sound too bad." She gave Spike a wink and he relaxed visibly. As brazen as he was, he still felt needles of apprehension when it came to his poetry or musical talents. 

"So," Garrett whistled, "are you gonna sing for Graduation Girl here?" Spike glanced at the other man, looking for signs that Garrett was being condescending but Spike saw nothing of the sort in his gray eyes. All he saw was the mirth dancing back and forth and—oh, yes, the pain. 

But before he could examine it further, Dawn slapped him on the arm. "So you're gonna sing for me, Spike? You so have to." Spike was taken aback by her ready acceptance of him, despite finding out that he had been back to Sunnydale without contacting her. He owed her big time and a song, though small, would be the perfect place to start his groveling. 

"Sure, Bit," he said and ran a hand across her velvety locks, "s'only fair since Big sis got to hear me. But it'll have ta wait. Tomorrow?" 

Dawn stuck out her lip, pouting and nodded her head sullenly. "Fine, tomorrow it is." 

"Hey," Willow objected, "what about me? Do I get a song, too?" Her shimmering green eyes pled with him and Spike knew that there was no way he could deny her, either. 

"Cor," he growled in consternation, "what is it with me and not being able to say no to beautiful women?" Both Dawn and Willow turned a fiery red and Buffy hid her face in her hands while the other men smiled, nodding in agreement. 

"Guess I'll have to agree with you there, Spikey," Xander sighed. "These three little ladies are something special, aren't they."

"I'll second that," Garrett said and patted Buffy's leg under the table while throwing winks at Willow and Dawn. "What's a fella to do?" 

"Yes," Giles offered as the waiter returned with their main courses, "what indeed." 

"Okay," Willow spoke up, "now that you guys are done embarrassing us utterly and completely, tell us a little more about your friend, Spike." 

"Sure," he replied and downed another mussel. "Like I said, me an' Rachel took the money I 'ad and bought the majority shares of this club called Winston's. I know, right nancy boy name--sorta like Rupert," Spike patted the Watcher on the back and chuckled throatily at the older man's incredulous stare. 

"So how did it get the name _Blue Song?" _Buffy asked. Though they had talked a lot about the club (though not about Rachel, thankfully) he hadn't told her where it had gotten it's name. 

"Kinda two-fold, actually," he said and leaned back in his chair. "The way I was feelin', I wanted a place where ladies and gents with burdensome thoughts could come an' get 'em of their chests. Rachel came up with the name." He ducked his head and ran a hand through his tousled locks. "Said it reminded 'er of me."

"Okay," Buffy smiled, "but, gotta be honest, you really don't look like the blue boy to me."

"Thanks ever so, luv," he fired back teasingly before dropping his head again. "Said it reminded 'er of me eyes."

"Oh, that's sweet," Willow said and on Buffy's look amended, "in an utterly cheesy way." She gave Spike an apologetic smile and he winked his acceptance of it. 

"So you have blue eyes," Xander supplied, "and she just added the song part or is there something else to it that's overly _poetic,_" the last word emphasized.

"Actually, you're dead on, mate. Wasn't just that my eyes were blue that got 'ere attention but she said there was a story she read in 'em. A story that could be sung to the world, as she put it." He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. "So in renovatin' the place, I wanted to make it somethin' special, like that Caritas bar Peaches frequents in LA. Found a right lovely Wicca and her warlock hubby to cast a spell o' sorts on the place." 

"Spell?" Giles asked his voice full of reproach. "What kind of spell?"

Spike dismissed the inquiry with a wave of his hand. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Rupes. This was white hat mojo all the way, none of the dark stuff."

"What did it do?" Willow asked curiously. Ever since coming back from England, she had taken a vested interest—when time permitted—to studying the various forms of white magic and the positive effects it could have when used properly. 

"Well, it's quite simple, really. Bloke comes to the stage, sings 'bout his troubles and that's when the spell kicks in. Takes his—or her—troubles and disperses them from the host's body."

"So, it's like a Hayoka?" Garrett asked. On the Scoobies puzzled looks, he explained. "I…I saw it on Highlander once. This Native American immortal that was Duncan's friend was the Hayoka of his tribe."

"Okay," Spike said, "still not followin' ya." 

"In…in the texts that I have read, a Hayoka is…is sort of a filter," Giles interceded. "He, or she, absorbs the evil from a person into his or herself, allowing that person a…a new beginning. A clean slate, emotionally, that is."

"The anger and pain that the person is feeling transfers to the Hayoka from the subject like Giles said," Garrett added. "It doesn't totally remove it but lessens it considerably."

"But what about this hi-yoda?" Buffy asked. "Wouldn't he get overwhelmed if he did that too much?" 

"Not necessarily," Garrett supplied. "Hayokas are similar to slayers in a way, being that they are both ordained at birth. After I saw Highlander, I did a bit of research on the term and found that much of what the show said about it was accurate." He glanced around, noticing that everyone's gaze was fixed on him. 

"As it is, all humans are born with a finite capacity to contain negative emotions before said negative emotions start to eat away at the person's innate goodness. In theory, a Hayoka possesses an infinite amount of space for that negativity."

"So they can like, what, absorb pretty much all the negativity in the world and never be corrupted?" Buffy questioned. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought back to that particular Highlander, remembering Garrett watching it late one night as she dozed. "Hey, wasn't that the one where Duncan tried to kill Richie?" 

"What?" Xander hissed. "I thought Richie was like his Padawan. Why would he try to kill him?"

"Well, Duncan's friend, the Coltec Hayoka had taken in too much evil and it overwhelmed him. Duncan had to kill him and when he did, the dark quickening he received overrode his moral compass, hence, evil Duncan."

"But I thought the Hayoka thingies were supposed to have infinite capacity for that stuff," Dawn reminded. "So what happened?"  
"Guess he wasn't a bottomless well after all, Niblet," Spike replied. 

"So if that's the case, what's going to happen to the two that performed the spell at your place?" Buffy asked, her back straightening as she made to go into slayer mode. 

Spike smiled at her transformation, his love for her growing even more. "S'okay, luv, they don't absorb it into themselves."

"So what do they do?" She pressed. 

"There's this talisman—the Dansian Crystal—some rot like that." 

"The…the Dansian Crystal?" Giles prodded. "Are…are you sure?" 

"Look, mate," Spike replied, "this is the Niblet's dinner, time for the celebratories. Not some forum for talk on some thousand year old crystal or knock-off." He gazed at Giles sternly and the watcher returned his gaze before backing down. 

"Yes, Spike," he said and polished his glasses with a napkin, "you're quite right. This is Dawn's day, er, night and it shall be treated accordingly." 

"Damn straight," Spike quipped and Dawn punched him lightly in the arm. 

"Watch your bleedin' tongue," she teased and laughed when he gave her what was supposed to be a menacing glare. 

"Keep jokin', Nibs," Spike growled, "and see if you ever get your present."

"Presents?" She asked eagerly. "There's gonna be presents?" She rubbed her hands together excitedly and everyone broke out in laughter. 

"There might be," Spike intimated and threw a sly grin at the graduating teen. 

"Well Dawnie," Buffy smiled and touched her sister on the arm, "guess that means you'll have to be nice to darling Spikey for another," she glanced at her watch, "sixteen hours." 

"Do I have to?" She whined.

"Hey!" Spike grunted indignantly, "sitting right here."

"Oh, you are, aren't you?" Xander joshed.

"Unfortunately for me," Giles murmured. Everyone turned towards the Watcher in disbelief and he squirmed under the scrutiny. "What?" 

"Knew you had a pulse somewhere under that stuffy upper crust British veneer, mate," Spike remarked and patted him on the back. 

"Eat your food, you prat," Giles growled and everyone burst into laughter. 

Leaning across the table, Garrett fixed Giles with a serious stare and whispered conspiratorially. "How did you survive so long around this people?"

Giles leaned forward and, removing his glasses replied, "You have no idea." 

***The _Highlander _episodes I'm referring to were from the fourth season. Part one was called _Something Wicked _and the second part was _Deliverance. _I'm not sure if Hayoka is a true legend in Native American lore but for now, assume that it is. 

***Next chapter, we get Garrett and Buffy talking on the bluff. 

  
  



	15. Part XIV

Do What You Have to Do

Part XIV

The rest of the dinner went more smoothly than anyone would have guessed. Not to say that there weren't a handful of awkward pauses and stolen glances but only three individuals noticed the said distractions. 

As uncomfortable as he had been earlier, Spike had forced himself to enjoy the meal for Dawn's sake and, from the looks of it all, she, along with the others, were having a grand old time. In fact, he was impressed with the ease everyone had taken to conversing. He was thankful of the amiable atmosphere the conversation provoked--not only for Dawn but Buffy as well. He knew without a doubt that she was feeling the same burden as he was though she had not shown it much since Garrett had first shown up. 

Spike turned towards Dawn when her hand patted his arm. She smiled apologetically at him, understanding the tension he was obviously feeling. _Guess we aren't as covert as I assumed, _he thought and granted the teen with a warm smile. Putting his thoughts aside, Spike turned is attention back to the conversation at hand. 

Contrary to Spike's calmness, Buffy was a nervous wreck. Every time the former vampire glanced her way with those piercing blue eyes or she brushed against Garrett had the slayer wanting to run for the hills. _It's that delightful little thing called guilt, _Buffy admonished internally. Oh yeah, she was feeling the delicious ache of the wings of guilt fluttering freely inside her guts. Of course, she was pretty sure no one had picked up on the beefy side of angst with a helping of trepidation that danced on top of her conscience as she smiled at the right times and participated healthily in conversations and anecdotes being passed around. Being around Garrett these two years had not only helped her open up more but it also gave her the abilities to hide what she was feeling--not with a mask of indifference but with the true to life emotions she would have felt had her conscience been clear. Yeah, she was a regular Sarah Michelle Gellar, worthy of critical acclaim not to mention a nice, shiny Emmy. 

Of course, she would have to deal with her actions (as well as make a decision) sooner or later and, as much as she wished it to be the latter, she understood that the former would have to take place if she wanted to be fair.

_Too late for that, _she admitted, smiling at Xander's comment about the political agendas of Emmy judges. 

Garrett smiled tiredly when he heard the dulcet sounds of Buffy laughter next to him. It was the first true expression of enjoyment she had given during the past two hours. He smirked inwardly as he thought about her attempts at hiding what she was feeling, something he often did though he didn't do it much around her, only when he knew she was already dealing with things of her own. Like now. 

Although they had talked on occasion the past few months about their hiatus, Garrett had never broached the subject full force and it was wearing him down. He had no one to blame but himself considering that he had been avoiding the deep conversations more than Buffy had. That wasn't to say that she was being Ms. Forthcoming but Garrett had seen the look in her eyes and though there was no hiding the major reservations she had about talking things through, he also saw her willingness to talk despite the potential angst of the situation. Knowing that brought him to the decision he had just made internally--after dinner, he and Buffy would have that talk. 

***

Forty minutes after dessert had been served, the Scoobies filed out of the restaurant, appetites sated. Since Spike was staying with Buffy and Dawn, Xander had offered to take Giles in and the two of them had fled in Xander's Taurus. Willow was going to drop Dawn off at the house and, as much as he loathed leaving Buffy and Garrett alone, Spike rode with them, intent on talking with the teen. That left Buffy and Garrett, leaning against their respective cars that were parked next to one another. 

"So," Garrett ventured, keeping his gray eyes focused on the concrete, willing himself not to look at the tan leg peeking out from the slit of Buffy's dress. 

"So," the slayer replied, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. She had no illusions as to why Garrett had pulled her aside as they left, whispering that they needed to talk. She also knew what it was that he wanted to talk about and, to put it mildly, she was so not looking forward to it. 

"Where to begin? Where to begin?" he questioned, more to himself than to her. He bit his lower lip and Buffy had to stifle a giggle. It was a trait that he showed only during times of extreme nervousness--sorta like the way Spike used to run his hand through his platinum locks when…_No Buffy, _the slayer reprimanded as her thoughts took a turn towards the ex-vampire. She couldn't think about him now if she wanted to be fair, needing to give her undivided attention to Garrett. Decision made, she locked all thoughts and sensations relating to Spike deep into her mental vaults though she wasn't sure how long they would stay that way. Better take advantage of it now. 

"So," she began nervously, "did you wanna talk about…us?" She glanced up at him and he did the same. Their eyes locked and a heat suffused through both of them at the longing for one another. To Garrett, it was like no other feeling he had ever felt, not even with Cynthia. He wanted nothing better than to get lost in those hazel storms that calmed the raging storm inside of him while, at the same time, stirring the waves and tides crashing against his soul. Buffy was his everything and though he could, Garrett did not want to imagine what it would be like without her. 

The surge of emotion that welled within Buffy was equally as powerful. The love behind Garrett's eyes steadied her unlike Riley or even Angel. The only person that had had an effect similar to his gray jewels had been the person she had refused to let into her heart. Part of her was disgusted that she questioned giving herself to the man standing not two feet from her as he had been the one to anchor her to a world she had experienced so much heartbreak in. How could she be so cruel as to leave him for another after all he had done? 

But as that part of Buffy cursed her, another part, the one filled with passion and truth, commended her for her strength and courage at not taking the easy way out, something she had done for years. There was no doubt that she had always made the hard choices when it came to slaying but decisions concerning her love life had never been met head on, always letting her love—or fear of it—guide her. Either she jumped in with both feet (as with Angel) or she tested the water with her toe, though never going in all the way. The past two years had watched her mature into someone that could use her heart, soul _and _mind when confronting the monstrous love that she would give to a man. Every ounce of Buffy Summers would be needed to figure out her current situation. 

She wasn't one hundred percent sure what to do but one thing that was definite was that, no matter what she decided, Buffy Summers would break someone's heart and a little piece of hers would go along with him. 

***

My heart is pounding in my chest as I wait for Garrett to respond. It's not like I don't know what he's going to say but still, hearing it, having him confirm what we need to talk about is different. I try distracting myself by admiring his athletic body and bronze skin but it doesn't work. All I can see are those powerful hands cupping his face as tears claw out his gray eyes. God, I don't know what to do about him. 

"Yeah," he finally speaks, nodding his head imperceptibly. "We really need to talk, Buffy." As distracted as I am by my own thoughts, Garrett's nervousness bleeds through my consciousness and I am again reminded of how much I don't want to hurt him but hurting people seems to be the only thing besides slaying that I'm proficient at even now. 

"Yeah," I sigh, breathing for the first time since I asked him did he want to talk. "I guess we do." 

We stand in silence for a few moments, admiring our own stylish footwear, all too aware of the potential ramifications that this conversation may bring about. Damn, I would love a distraction right about now. Maybe a few undead bozos could sate the tension burrowing its way between my shoulder blades. 

"So, bluff?" He asks and I nod, not needing him to elaborate further. "Want to ride with me?" I motion to say yes but considering how this talk may end up, I think I'd rather stick to my own devices instead of riding back in what could possibly be a most uncomfortable ride. 

"I'll follow you," I say and give him a nervous smile, which he returns. I turn around to open my car door but a strong arm brushing against my hip beats me to it. I crane my neck to look up at him and can't help but get tangled up in those gray eyes of his. I lick my lips unconsciously and force myself to the side as he pulls the door open. I smile hesitantly and get in the car. 

"Thanks," I say before he closes the door. Garrett's eyes do this dance at the one word as if it's the most precious thing he's ever heard. He has a way of making me feel like I'm the only person in the world and the more I think about it, the more I realize that Angel never made me feel that way. Only Garrett has. 

Garrett and Spike, that is. 

At the thought of my once undead paramour, I busy myself with the minute details of starting the car and turning on the lights and radio. I fiddle with the knob and grunt my dissatisfaction with the lack of good music. Taking matters into my own hands, I reach in the back seat and pull out on of Dawn's many CD cases. Great, out of all her cases, I get the one with the label-free CDs. Sighing dramatically; I pluck one from the case and shove it in my CD player. I pull out behind Garrett's Beamer and almost slam on the breaks when I hear the same song Spike sang at the club a few nights ago. 

__

Adia I do believe I failed you

Adia I know I've let you down

Don't you know I tried so hard

To love you in my way…

It's easy, let it go…

I'm powerless against the tears that pool within my eyes and I blink them back frantically, not wanting to cry before I have to. I don't know what it is about the song that gets me so emotional--maybe it's the fact that it reminds me of the night I saw him for the first time in two years or maybe…I don't know. Besides, does it matter? 

***

__

It takes about twenty minutes to get to the bluff and by the time I pull up to the edge, my nerves are singing. Buffy pulls in beside me and I wait until she turns off the car before I get out. Running my hands across my short hair, I walk around the back of her car, chuckling at her vanity plate: **Chosen1**. If people only knew…

She gives me a genuine smile when she gets out of the car and pulls me into an impromptu hug. I hesitate slightly before returning it with a longing born of months not touching her everyday. My eyes close and I inhale the intoxicating vanilla scent that is all Buffy and I have a hard time maintaining composure. Her hair tickles my neck as she nuzzles closer to me and I feel equal parts of contentment and trepidation, not knowing if it is meant as a gesture of goodbye or that she wants to be with me. I'm so damn confused and, being that discretion is the better part of valor, I pull from the embrace all the while biting the inside of my cheek. God, this woman is so beautiful. She looks up at me with that starry gaze and I can see the desire clouding her hazel orbs but it's not alone. There is also a great deal of fear and uncertainty along with a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of guilt. I can't help but wonder what it is she feels guilty about but hopefully all questions will be answered tonight. 

She takes my hand and leads me to the front of her car. Hiking her dress up enough to give her flexibility, Buffy hops onto the hood of the car, obviously not caring whether it's dirty or not so I shrug my shoulders and do the same. We sit there in silence, just enjoying the view as we've always done when coming here. I must say that, of all the places we have been together, this is my favorite as it holds a lot of memories for us. Our first 'official date' as a couple, the first time we made love (as well as the last time four months ago), not to mention where I proposed at, so what better place is there to have the talk that may decide the future of our relationship? 

The night is silent save for the chirping of crickets and whatever other creatures inhabit the night. Well, at least those not of the supernatural persuasion. Out the corner of my eye, Buffy wraps her arms around her shoulders and my first instinct is to ask if she's cold but when I turn to her, the moonlight reflects the unshed tears gathering within her eyes. Upon further inspection, I can clearly see the dried tear tracks on her cheeks and without thinking I brush my knuckles across them. She stiffens under my initial touch but after a few seconds, she leans into the caress and sighs audibly. I want to ask her what's wrong but what with all that must be going on in her head, I decide to wait for her to tell me. 

Of course, I'm just not sure I really want to hear what she's going to say. 

***

Where to start? Where to begin? My mind is a jumble of contrasting ideas and half-formed sentences ramming into one another at intersections and crosswalks, not stopping, running right through the 'Buffy needs time to think' stop sign, thank you very much. God, why can't things just go a little bit easier for me. I mean, I've done all the prayers, training, vitamins bit and--hello? --Saved the world a lot. Shouldn't I get some type of free pass for _one _easy thing? S'not like I'm asking for much here, is it? 

Okay, Buff, enough with the pity party. I thought I had gotten over that less than thrilling aspect of my personality a long time ago but I guess some of that part of me is still there. 

I bristle at the simple touch Garrett gives my cheeks, wondering if he can see the tears that are begging to fall. After a tense moment, I dismiss it and take comfort in his touch. I relax more as he continues his ministrations and I sway slightly, like I'm hearing a tune that he's not aware of. My tumultuous thoughts are temporarily put aside, all there is for me is his smooth flesh against mine, and the warm May breeze rifling through my hair.

When his hand drops from my face my shoulders slump until he scoots closer to me. He doesn't put an arm around me although our shoulders do touch and I'm comforted by his proximity. 

"Beautiful night," I say out of no where. I bite my lower lip at the sound of my own voice as it shatters the companionable silence and I curse myself for not keeping quiet. I already know that my simple statement will only bring about conversation that I so do not want to talk about now. 

"Always is up here," he replies, sneaking a look at me before returning his gaze back to the clear sky. 

We sit there for several minutes though it seems more like hours. Neither of us speaks or even looks at the other. I know Garrett enough to feel his mind working, thinking of what to say and how to say it. He's never been one to hide from things and let them fester and, instead, he'll approach the problem before it gets the chance to become a monster. I think that's why we're not on opposite ends of the world now. If it weren't for him sensing that something was wrong a few months ago and asking me, I never would have said anything and our relationship would have deteriorated just like Riley's and me. When Garrett asked me to talk to him, I did, telling him that I needed a break. Even after all the changes I have undergone the last two years, Buffy Summers still lacks the initiative when it comes to discussing her relationships. Hopefully Garrett will come through again and we can discuss the things that need to be, well, discussed. Of course, I really don't know how to explain, or even bring up that…

"Something happened, between you and Spike," he states casually. Well, guess I don't have to bring it up now, do I? Of course, that still means I have to explain it. Oh yeah, this'll be a hoot. 

I sigh in frustration and nervousness and I catch Garrett's head drop at the gesture. Even without looking at him I can feel his heart breaking from here and the painful knife lodged in my gut digs in a little deeper. Funny that I'd be feeling this considering he's the one that loves someone as unfaithful as I am. 

"Did you…" his voice breaks and he coughs to push back the pain coursing through him. I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that it will be all right but even denial Buffy knows that's a lie. I open my mouth to ask him what he means but he beats me to it. 

"Did you sleep with him?" I bristle at the emotionless tone he asks this with and part of me wants nothing more than to get mad and hurl insults at his audacity at asking such a question. Of course, I'm not like that anymore—too bad I wasn't more mature with Spike. Speaking of him, the other reason that I'm quiet (and hang my head in shame) is that I know without a doubt that if it wasn't for Spike pulling away, I very much would have given myself to him right there against the pillar. It hurts to admit that I can still be so selfish and I can't help but think that I don't deserve either man. 

Garrett's eyes are on me now and, mustering all the strength gained in my twenty-three years, I turn my watery eyes to his. I flinch involuntarily at the pain and betrayal written in his gray clouds, knowing that it's taking everything he's worth not to cry. I know it's hard because he's not hiding anymore and I can see the pain of the last few months clearly shining back at me. Pain that I've caused with my indecision and now, my infidelity. 

"Garrett, I…" I stutter but my mind refuses to formulate words and instead my mouth flutters open then closed like a fish. Any other time it would be funny but Garrett assumes that my lack of speech is the answer to his question he was not looking for.

"Was it worth it?" he spits and I wince at the harshness of his words. His anger bubbles to the surface yet I can clearly see the broken heart simmering below and I can't help but see that part of Spike in him. How many times have I hurt Spike with carefully chosen words hurled to maim and cut? How many times did he cover his pain with anger or a disinterested smirk? Guess I'm just getting my own medicine though the difference is that, unlike Spike I deserve it. 

"Garrett," I whisper and reach out to touch him. I bite my lip when he pulls away harshly, jumping off the hood of the car and his hands clench and unclench at his sides. He's shaking and I know it's only a matter of time before that even-tempered dam of his explodes. 

I slide off the car and cautiously walk up to him. I debate whether to touch him and end up grabbing his trembling fingers. He stiffens at my touch and I revert to the lip biting to keep my tears at bay. I don't want to hurt him and even if I didn't sleep with Spike, what we did do isn't any better so I can't even begin to justify anything. Hell, I really don't know anything right now. Should I tell him that we kissed or all of it? Do I tell him it's over or try to work things out? _I miss you, Mom. _

The thought comes out of no where and it physically jolts me from my spot. I drop Garrett's hand before the tears that I was trying to hold back spill forward and I cover my mouth to prevent the scream building in my chest from bursting forth. 

I hear Garrett sigh next to me before his strong arms encircle my petite body. Thankful for the support, I lean into his body and let the tears fall. 

I don't know what's hurting more; the reminder that my mom isn't here to comfort me (and hasn't been for four years) or the fact that I'm going to hurt someone that I really love? 

***

The silence that greets my question is enough to cleave my heart in two. I taste blood as I bite the inside of my cheek to stay the tears. For whatever reason, I refuse to let her see me cry, give her the satisfaction that she's crumpled and burned my soul into ashes. I never thought anything would hurt as bad as finally giving up on Cynthia after nine months of searching. 

As I spring from the car and stare out at the town, I know that that's not true. 

The jagged pain that pulses in my chest increases every second and it shoots up exponentially when her petite hand wraps around my fingers. Bile rises in my stomach thinking about the dinner. Both of them acting as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't fuc…did what they did last night. How could she do this to me? To us? Oh, I forgot--there is no us. Not now, probably never had been. Was all our time together just a filler until he returned? Was I just some convenient rebound like Riley or comfort like Spike had been? I really thought I meant something to her but obviously I didn't. Guess it's my own damn fault for believing she could give me her heart after all she's been through. 

I curse at myself for giving Buffy excuses but the internal rant is forgotten when anguish radiates from her body. As much as I don't want to look at her, I steal a glance her way and sigh tiredly when I see the tears falling from her beautiful hazel eyes. My pain forgotten, I wrap her in my arms, intent on making her pain go away. Regardless of what she's done and will do to me, one thing I cannot stand is to see Buffy cry. If it cost me my life to prevent her from shedding another tear, from feeling any more pain in this life, I would do it. I would greet that death with a smile on my face, never looking back, just knowing that she would be okay. 

A part of me understands that the only thing that matters is Buffy's happiness and yes, I do believe that with all of my heart. But the part of me that's been driven irrational by the agony of what she did refuses to give her support and I am ashamed at its desire to make her hurt as much as I am. The guilt that bubbles up as Buffy cries into my chest overrides the irrationality and my anger is abated--evaporating into the ether, leaving in its wake the ashen and sooty remains of a scorched soul. 

Ain't life grand?

***

I don't know how long I cry but by the time I finish, Garrett's shirt is soaked in the front. I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to get whatever residual tears remain to dissipate. After I feel that I have it together, taking a deep breath, I push away from Garrett and look him in the eye. My fingertips graze his right cheek, tracing the dried tear tracks visible in the pale light of tonight's moon. 

"What's wrong?" I ask and as soon as the words leave me I want to bash my head into a tree. What the hell do you think is wrong with him? God, if I didn't know any better, I'd think I was a natural blonde. 

Garrett's chest expands between us and I rest my other hand on the smooth planes of his muscles, feeling their strength through his shirt. His eyes are so sad as they envelop my entire being and I shake off their pull, knowing that we have to talk, not stare at one another as if this is our last time truly being together. Of course, on some level, I do know that that may be the case. 

"You were crying," he says matter-of-factly and the simplicity of his tone is what jars me from my conflicting thoughts. His cheerless smile causes me to scrunch my eyebrows together and he lets out a chuckle. 

"What?" I ask, confusion evident in my tone. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he places a gentle kiss to my forehead before taking two steps back and lowering his head. 

"You know," his voice comes out as a whisper and I strain to hear it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks aimlessly at the grass beneath our feet. "You know, when I lost Cynthia, when she was…taken from me, I never thought I'd find someone that would even remotely be able to take her place. As guilty as I felt about thinking it, I knew that, sooner or later, there would be someone else, someone wonderful. But they'd never compare to her, that much I knew." His gray eyes catch mine and his next words propel shivers up my skin. 

"But you turned my world upside down," he offers me a wry smile before amending, "in a good way of course." The love in his smile is catching and I can only grin back at him, uncomfortable though thankful with the emotional shift between us. 

"Buffy," his expression sobers though there is no anger in his face, "you gave me something that I resigned myself never to feel again. That hole in my heart that Cynthia's disappearance left was patched up at the sight of you. It's as if you removed the sorrow from my heart with one smile. That's not to say that I still don't miss her—especially since I don't know if she's alive or dead and a part of me will always love her, just like a part of you will always love Angel." His face feel again and he turns away from me but not before I see the tears fall freely down his face. I move towards him to comfort him but his quiet words stop me in my tracks. 

"And me." It only takes me a second to understand that those two words are an extension of his previous sentence and an irrational anger filters within me. 

"So what? You're going to leave?" I thrust my hands to my hips barely aware of the renewed tears that trickle down my already stained cheeks. I don't know how, but Buffy's twisted logic is at it again, justifying my right to be mad at Garrett when, once again, it's my fault that he wants to leave. But can you blame me? I mean, the one person I thought would never leave did, so why should I expect Garrett to stay? Hell, if you can't have faith in a 'till the end of the world" promise, then what exactly can you put faith in? 

"Buffy, what are you talking about?" 

"You're just like all the rest," I spit venomously, hating myself more every second. I thought I had come so far these past two years but my insecurities and fears rear their ugly heads again. "When the going gets tough, they leave. Guess I can throw you into the whole fantastic bunch." I see the hurt on his face but turn away in shame before it can truly affect me. The next thing I know, Garrett's strong hands grasp me by the shoulders. His grip is so strong for a human yet there is tenderness in his touch despite his palpable anger and even if I weren't a slayer, I wouldn't fear him hurting me. 

"First off, get it straight; I'm not the one who broke off the engagement," I motion to say something but he cuts me off, "oh, I'm sorry. We're on a 'hiatus'. Second, I'm still here, jumping through all these damn hoops you've put me through. And finally, I sure as hell didn't fuck my ex and act like nothing hap-" I don't know if he was going to finish but I don't give him a chance and the next thing I know, I'm standing over him as he gazes up at me, stunned. His lip is busted and he puts a hand to his jaw. His face contorts into anger before the damn bursts and he shields his face with his hands. His raspy sob breaks me from my daze and only then do I realize what I just did. 

"Oh my God," I whisper, horrified at my actions. I fall to my knees and my hands dangle limply at my sides. Images of Spike's battered and bloodied face assaults my vision and I want to scream them away. Shame continues to course through my veins as I remember the horrible things I've said to him, things conceived purposely in order to instill the maximum amount of pain. And now…and now I can only stare at Garrett huddled before me, another casualty of my words and now my fists. 

I fall to my butt and the words that I want to say are trapped in my throat, refusing egress. Garrett body is blurry now, the tears effectively blinding my sight. My mind is a jumble of thoughts interconnecting yet never falling into place, only swirling and congealing within the recesses of my conscious and subconscious, darkening the already putrid waters that is me. What have I become? 

"Buffy…" the voice barely registers through the cloud of emotion and I glance around, looking for the source of it when two hands cup my face. 

"Buffy." It's Garrett. His hoarse voice murmurs my name and I focus on the gentle face in front of me. I'm taken aback at the crooked smile on his face and my fingertips graze his rapidly swelling jaw. The sight of it makes me want to cry more but his palms against my cheeks calms my nerves and I take several deep breaths and the tension bleeds away with each exhalation. Gaining my composure, I gently move his hands from my face and let them drop between us. There is so much that I want to tell him, so much I want to apologize for but I have no idea where to start. 

"I'm sorry," I say and we both laugh at the simplicity of it. 

"You should be," he chuckles and I can see him hiding his hurt and anger about what just happened, "for almost breaking my jaw."

"God, Garrett," I wail and throw my arms around him, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I repeat until the syllables bleed together into a stagnant verse of incoherence. Finally, after several more minutes of babbling, I assemble the courage to look at him. Our faces are only inches apart and the intensity of everything slithers through my body, an electrical current of so many emotions. 

"I'm so sorry," I whisper and lift a trembling hand to inspect the damage I've caused. He kindly brushes my hand away before locking his eyes to mine. 

"How could you, Buffy?" The sorrow in his voice threatens to drown me and I choke back a sob. "How could you--with Spike?"

"Garrett, I…" Come on, Buff, you can do it. "It's not what you think." 

"Not what I think?" He laughs and there is no emotion to it. "Okay, then what is it then?" 

"I…I didn't sleep with Spike," I tell him and his eyes narrow, searching my face for the truth. It only takes a moment before his relief beams at me. 

"You didn't—didn't sleep with him?" I shake my head, too exhausted to speak for the moment. "But I asked you and you…"

"Didn't answer?" I smile understandingly but it quickly fades as I think what would have happened if it were up to me. "I know," I lower my head in shame, unable, for the countless time today, to look Garrett in the eye. 

"But if you didn't sleep with him, then why—why let me think you did?" His words are marred with confusion and accusation and I know I deserve the latter. 

"Because," I sigh and lift my chin up, "even though I didn't sleep with him I…" what do I say? Let him get me off? Wanted him so deep inside of me that he'd never get out? That Spike was the one who broke it up? None of those really sounds like options though the third choice will be the least painful. I hope. 

Taking another deep breath, I make eye contact again and this time I refuse to look away. "Even though we didn't sleep together, we did do…things." 

"Things?" He frowns. "What kind of things?" 

"We—we kissed." He stiffens visibly before composing himself. 

"Is that all?" His tone is emotionless though its undercurrent pleads for me to answer it with a no but I can't lie to him, not after all he's been to me. 

"Yes—I mean no…I mean…"

"Which is it, Buffy? Yes or no?"

"No, that's not all," I bite my lip to keep from looking away. I decide to tell him the surrounding details of my unfaithfulness if only to soften the blow. "We had this fight and I ran away, as usual. Spike had said—something that made me mad and I wanted to get away before I hit him." The way I stumble over my words is a dead giveaway to the white lie though Garrett doesn't take notice. Well, either that or he's just being polite. 

"Anyway, when he found me, I didn't let him try to explain and he did what I always used to do to him when I didn't want to hear the truth he was telling me."

"He kissed you." I nod and Garrett's eyes darken a fraction and I know he's thinking that Spike took advantage of me. 

"Yeah, he did. But he also pulled away and apologized. He was about to walk away when I—when I kissed him." 

"So after he kissed you and _apologized,_ you—what? —Kissed him again?" He's not too happy about that and I don't blame him. Hell, if he did something like that, I sure as hell wouldn't be as calm as he so is. 

"Yeah, I did. It got pretty intense and if…" My words taper off and I don't know exactly how to finish up. 

"How intense?" He takes several deep breaths and it's the telltale sign of someone desperately trying to maintain control. 

"Very," I whisper. "If…if it wasn't for Spike, we would have…" I trail off again and this time I do drop my eyes. Garrett's hand squeezing mine is uncomfortable but I don't think he even realizes it. After several seconds, the pressure diffuses and we fall into silence. 

"Do you love him?" He asks a good while later, his voice straining with pain. I want to lie to him, tell him no, that he is the only person for me. But then I remember how lying to others and myself got me and Spike into such a destructive relationship. Spike's words from the night before filters into my mind; he had said never to be ashamed about what I feel, never to lie to others or to myself about my feelings and I realize that I do have to tell Garrett the truth. 

"Yes." 

His lip is quivering when he speaks to me again yet his voice does not waver in the least. "Does he know?" 

"No, but Garrett—"

"What?" 

"I love you, too." He offers me a genuine smile that dies too prematurely before replying. 

"Yeah, I know." 

"But Spike," I falter, not knowing what to say so I fall back on old Buffy. "I love Spike like I love Angel, except that me and Spike are friends, where Angel and I never will be. That's how I love him." 

Garrett chuckles humorlessly and shakes his head. I frown at him, wondering what's so damn funny and open my lips to ask him but he beats me to it. 

"Do you love me, Buffy? I mean really love me?" His words are strong yet they sound tired, defeated. 

"Of course I love you," I respond irritated, "I just told you that…"

"Then don't lie to me," he barks his voice as hard as his features. But as suddenly the anger appeared, it dissolves and he looks at me with the love that has comforted and warmed me the better part of these last two years.   
"I know you love me, Buffy, I do. That's why I don't want you to lie to me," he takes my hand in both of his and stares at me with an intensity that rivals Spike and I shiver at the openness he's looking at me with. 

"But more important than that Buffy," he smiles fondly at me and it lights a flame within me, "is that you don't lie to yourself." His words shake me to the core and I reflexively pull away while Garrett just smiles serenely at me. Am I that transparent where people know exactly what I'm thinking? God, I hope not. If so, that doesn't bode well for the whole slayage thing. 

I open my mouth to speak but he quiets me with a chaste kiss. I lean into his body but just as quickly as he did it; he pulls away with a sad smile on his face. 

"Now," he says and strokes my cheek, "I'm going to ask you again. Do you _love _him?" 

My first reaction is to rant but his eyes broker no arguments and I know I'll be forced to tell him the truth. 

I just don't know if I'm ready to find out what it is just yet. 

***

Buffy pulled up to Revello Drive ninety minutes after everyone else had left. _Has it only been that long? _She asked as she cut the engine and exited the car. She walked to the door, the concrete cool on her shoeless feet. She had discarded the heels before driving away from Garrett, tired of the confining fit of the shoes. As she reached the door, Buffy hesitated before opening and was content to stare at her sparkling toe nail polish, barely visible in the shadowy porch, despite the light being on outside. Running a hand through her hair and wiping her eyes one last time, Buffy slid the key home and turned it, unlocking the door. _Here goes nothing, _she thought before pushing the door open. 

"Dawn? Spike?" She whispered in the darkness of the living room. She tiptoed throughout the first floor and, seeing no sign of the two, the slayer peeked out the backdoor. The back light shone through the curtains of the window and Buffy smiled when she saw the two figures huddled together on the steps. Not wanting to disturb them, she made her exit, bounding noiselessly up the steps. 

Ten minutes later, she was dressed for bed, feeling more relaxed than she had all day. She lay in bed, hands linked behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't help but smile at the weight of indecision that had been lifted from her chest. It was a welcoming feeling. She had made her choice and it…

As her thoughts returned to the choice she made, unbidden tears welled in her eyes. She laughed bitterly before a choked sob broke from her lips. How could everything change so quickly? She had made her decision--well, sort of--didn't she? So why did it feel like a part of her was missing? Why did it feel like she had been ripped from heaven again? She had no answers for that as the tears flowed again and Buffy buried her head in her pillow, hoping to drown out the uncontrollable sobs contorting her petite frame. It wasn't until two familiar forms enveloped her in warmth and love that her sobs trickled off. The last coherent thought that Buffy had was that, yes, she did make a decision. Whether or not it was the final one, she had no idea. But one thing was certain and that was that sooner or later she would have to make up her mind wholly and completely. After tonight, the only certainty she had was that, no matter what she decided, she, Garrett and Spike would all be hurt by it. She could only pray that the person standing by her when everything was said and done would be strong enough to hold the both of them together. 

****Well, next chapter is the Dawn/Spike conversation followed by Graduation Day. There will be no giant demon ex-mayors involved with this one. 

****The next three-four chapters will be decidedly less angsty than this one though no less involving. I know I was mean about not telling you what Buffy's decision was but you'll find out soon enough. 


	16. Part XV

****

A/N: Sorry for the delay but I was flooded with a bunch of other things. Hopefully I'll have Graduation Day (Part XVI) up by the weekend. Well, for those who have been waiting, the first chapter of **_Severed Ties, _**the sequel to **_Family Ties _**will be up sometime this week as well. Well, hope you enjoy the Spike/Dawn moment. Its not as angsty as the Buffy/Garrett thing and also unlike that one, I won't leave you hanging…

**P.S. ** Oh, and by the by, if you have something negative to say in your reviews, I don't mind. However, I do not like when people write their opinions trashing a fic without signing his/her name and/or email. If you're brave enough to trash, be brave enough to say who you are or where you can be reached. And on that note, those who have suggestions, places where I can work on or what not, suggest away. I become better when people let me know what I did well and what I may need to work on. As long as you do it in a non-trashing manner, I have no problem whatsoever with someone pointing out a deficiency. Hell, I'm **always **looking for the weak parts of my fictions. So I love those who have suggested things to me and though I may not follow it all or agree with it all, I do take all suggestions into consideration. Thanks again for your reviews and emails and, like I said, leave any and all suggestions. 

Do What You Have To Do

Part XV

It didn't take thirty seconds after situating himself in the back of Willow's Neon that Spike started grumbling about leaving Buffy alone with Garrett. Of course, he didn't out and out say it but the two women in the front seat didn't need to hear it to discern Spike's sullen mood. They traded smiles at one another, content to talk about the upcoming summer while glancing in the rearview to catch glimpses of the moody ex-vampire. 

Spike was oblivious to the amused scrutiny of the two women up front, instead intent on having himself a good sulk. His thoughts were a swarm, rising and falling, not quite in sync yet moving decidedly in the same direction: Buffy and Garrett alone. 

To be honest, Spike knew that he had no say in what Buffy did and didn't do, considering that he was the detestable sod that left for two years without a word. It was unreasonable (and down right ballsy) to think that he had a leg to stand on. Well, that was what the rational part of him preached. Of course, 'rational' was not what Spike would call his forte. He was more accustomed to living on the cusps of irrational (in)sanity, treading that fine line between emotional meltdown and villainous coolness, both of which were responsible for his fair share of trouble in good old Sunny Hell. 

_I love this town, _he thought sardonically, closing his eyes. In truth, no other place held memories as painful as the quaint town. Though he had done his fair share of ass-kicking here, he had also been beat down and bloodied more than his liking and that wasn't limited to just the physical variety. No, his already unstable psyche had been dealt a crippling blow the first time he laid eyes on the slayer, though that was knowledge he had only figured out recently. In fact, the emotional damage he had received (all of which led back to the slayer in some way, shape or form, thank you very much) far surpassed any physical injuries he had suffered. Yet here he was, back again on a promise to stay. The more he thought about it, the more Buffy's words in the abandoned building made sense. He was in love with pain then, invigorated into some masochistic frenzy at the internal ache he received at every slice of Buffy's quick-witted and highly accurate tongue. She had said he loved getting beat down by her words and her fists and she was right and not only then but now as well. 

Spike was still addicted to the pain. After all, it was his only rationalization for still being here. 

"Isn't that right, Spike?" Dawn's innocent voice filtered through the distortion in the former vampire's mind. 

"What was that, Bit?" Spike sat up in his seat and focused on the young woman in the passenger's seat. 

"Oh, I was just saying that it seems as if vampires—or ex-vamps, as the case may be—of a certain order tend to brood more so than those of other orders." 

"What are you tryin' to say, Niblet?" Spike asked warningly. The crankiness he was feeling came to the fore and he was sure that, if her were still a vampire, his game face would have shifted into place. 

"Nothing," she sung sweetly before examining her nails. Spike buried the growl rising in his chest with a cough that sounded an awful lot like 'bullshit'. It wasn't until he saw the amused smirks on the two women's faces that Spike knew he'd been had. 

"Ha-bloody-ha," he drawled and 'accidentally' kicked the backs of both seats. "So bloody mature you two." 

"Oh and you are the paragon of maturity back there," Willow deadpanned. 

Dawn turned in her seat and gave her former (and possibly future) best friend with a sympathetic blame. "Spike, come on. It's not like she's going to go run away with him."

"Not yet," he muttered and crossed his arms. 

"Spike," Willow said and eyed him in the rearview mirror, "you've got to understand, two years have passed since you guys have seen each other. She's started a new life and everything, complete with her own beau. You can't expect her to just drop everything for you." Though her words carried sympathy and support typical of the red head, the words still stung Spike. 

"S'not what I was thinkin', Red," he replied sharply. 

Willow bit her lip, hesitant to speak about her own insights into Buffy's train of thought. She didn't want to push the former lovers in any direction that they weren't ready to travel on their own. Instead, she looked to Dawn, beckoning the brunette to speak for her. 

"No, you didn't _say _it, but you were sure as hell thinking it." 

"Niblet…" 

"No, Spike, you have to listen, okay? The fact of the matter is what happened between you and Buffy was messed up. Now, while it was primarily Buffy's fault, you weren't totally blameless either."

"Don't I know it," he conceded, sadness coating his tongue.

"I may not know it all but I do know that she did—does—care for you. I'm really not sure where her head's at," Dawn conceded. "I mean, the last few months have been pretty tough for her and though she doesn't act like it at all, her eyes sometimes has that post-resurrection glaze to them. Now, whether that was due to her feelings for you that seemed to re-emerge or her nerves on being engaged is anyone's guess."

"So what are you saying, Niblet?" 

"What she's saying," Willow interjected, "is that you need to stop worrying about what Buffy's doing. You have to live for you." Spike motioned to speak but Willow held up her hand and he graciously closed his mouth. 

"I know you're trying, Spike. And it's hella hard, believe me, I know. But you really have to get yourself focused on what you want to accomplish _aside _from Buffy." The red head gave him an encouraging smile in the rearview and Spike returned it before staring back out the window, watching the passing shadows of the night. 

The remainder of the drive was taken in silence as all three occupants had their own personal demons to tame. Even after two years, Willow and Spike were at times haunted by the untouchable path and continuously had to learn to adjust to things that the other Scoobies could never comprehend. Though it was left unsaid, they both saw the other as a kindred spirit, responsible for unforgivable acts yet had been forgiven all the same. Still, they had not completely forgiven themselves and they knew that that final act would be the most difficult of all to achieve. 

As for Dawn, the next several hours would change her life forever. At this time tomorrow, she would be a high school graduate, on her final stop before hitting the real world. And then, in less than thirty minutes, she would have one of the most important talks of her life with someone that had been her best friend, her _only _friend. Though it had felt like old times during the dinner, Dawn couldn't help the resentment she still harbored towards Spike for leaving her two years ago. It wasn't that she didn't understand why he had to leave but that knowledge didn't soothe the ache that was still present in her chest. Only time and acceptance could accomplish that. 

She just hoped that she could accept him back into her heart like she had done in what seemed so long ago. 

*&*

We talk to Willow for a few minutes before she pulls off. Looking at one another briefly, we trudge up the walkway and to the steps with Dawn taking the lead. My bloody heart is pounding almost as much as it had when Buffy showed up at my club. 'Course, this particular confrontation I'm prepared for. Well, that may not be exactly the truth but who is ever prepared for the Wrath of Dawn? 

The minute squeak of the door opening brings my attention back to the present and I enter the premises at Niblet's behest. Not even bothering to take my jacket off, I head straight for the back porch, muttering something about getting air. 

As I close the door behind me, I let out a breath I had no idea I was holding before taking a seat on the concrete steps. Staring up at the stars, I think about the times me and the slayer sat out on these very steps, sometimes talking, other times sitting in silence. Every time, though, it was something we both needed, that companionship between two warriors, once mortal enemies. Hell, who could understand us any better than the other? It's the same soddin' reason I thought we belonged together in other ways. Won't even go into my right nice epiphany concerning me and Buffy 'belonging together'. Still, that doesn't mean I don't want to be with her. Hell, if I have to spend the rest of my bleedin' life bettering myself for her, then I will. I know that may not be quite on line with what Red told me but at the same time it won't just be for her I'm bettering myself for, now will it? 

The squeak of the back door opening breaks me from my thoughts and I crane my neck to see Dawn, dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts. Her hair is tied in a sloppy ponytail and all remnants of make-up have been obliterated. I realize that even without the fanciness of make-up and designer wear that this is both the same Dawn that I had left as well as an all-together different person. 

"Beautiful night," she says and her eyes scour the night sky. 

"It is," I agree and turn my gaze back to the clear night though my peripheral remains on her. It doesn't take much to know that she's just as tense as I am. I risk a glance and see how her tension is a fluorescent glow and it burns me. I want nothing more than to erase it from her once and for all. What 'urts more than anything is the fact that I am the reason for her pain. Pathetic sod that I am, I still think a kind word and a pat on the back can make it better. S'not that easy, never will be, either. 

I unbutton my shirt and thank the cool air that immediately scratches my chest with its invisible tendrils. Exhaling deeply, I close my eyes, committing to memory this tranquil feeling that bleeds into me just by havin' my girl here next to me. How many nights had I sat with Rachel after the bar closed, just talking? True, many of my words and emotions had been tangled up in the memories of my radiant slayer yet just as many broke from my lips about the powerful young woman that sits by me now. Often I'd go on and on about Dawn; how we broke into the Magic Box or she snuck to my crypt to 'ear stories 'bout my times in Europe. Sometimes, when I missed the 'Bit most, I'd tell Rachel how she kept me together during those hundred and forty-seven days…at times I missed 'er more than I missed Buffy. I guess it was because, with Dawn, I never 'ad to pretend, never 'ad to worry 'bout ridicule and disgusted looks. She accepted me like no one ever 'ad, save for my own Mum and Joyce. She trusted me like no one before and when I…I betrayed her trust. Still can't believe that she hasn't…

"Why did you do it, Spike?" 

Guess I thought too soon.

"Dawn," I turn to look at her and the tears running down her cheeks cuts off my air. It 'urts so much to see her like this, vulnerable and upset. 'Urts even more to know that I'm the cause of her pain. 

"Why did you do it?" Her voice is shaky yet filled with conviction.

"Bit…" I reach for her but she jerks away. 

"Don't call me…"

**

"…That," I whisper and Spike's hand freezes in midair. He turns away from me; I guess my anger did come across after all. It's weird, really. I want so bad to shout and scream but I'm pretty sure smacking him in the face the other day alleviated some of my aggression. But there's still that dying spark of hate I had developed against him two years ago not to mention the anger I still have about what he did to Buffy. I know she's forgiven him and, in a way, I have too. Still, I have to know. 

"Are you going to answer my question?" The tremor is gone from my voice though my whole body is vibrating and I hug myself tightly. I belatedly notice that I'm crying but right now I'm more focused on Spike and what he has to say. 

"Bit…Dawn," he wipes angrily at his eyes before facing me again. "I…I didn't know…"

"What?" I demand, the anger resurfacing at the unspoken words I hear in my mind. "You didn't know what you were doing? You were out of your mind?" I stand up, fists clenched at my sides and I stare into the blue oceans of Spike's eyes. I remember the crush I used to have on him--I used to dream of those eyes staring at me like they did Buffy. During that summer, it all changed. I still had a crush on him but it was different. I looked to those eyes for comfort and strength, strength I did not have. He always was there for me, his lips twisted in a sad smile. That remembered sadness is reflected in his face now, except that there is no smile, only a deep depression that I take notice of for the first time. 

"Spike," I whisper as my angry core incinerates and all that's left is a dull ache. I think maturity is kicking in and I sit back down, scooting a little closer to him. He doesn't look at me, his eyes finding something fascinating about his shoes. I want to touch him, but decide against it, afraid that he'll pull away like I did. I know I deserve it but I don't think my heart could take it. Turning to stare into the emptiness of the back yard, I wait for him to speak. 

"Dawn," he says after several thought-provoking minutes of silence, "before I say anything, I want you to know how sorry I am. For 'urtin' big sis, for leavin' like I did. I know…I know it really 'urt when you found out what I did. If I could take it back, even now, I'd give this bloody soul, my bloody _existence_ for Buffy never to have to go through that. 

"But I can't. That's the bloody wonderful thing about the past," he bolsters and tiny smile tickles my lips. For a moment, he sounds so much like the old Spike but his next words, or rather the emotion behind them weaves into my soul how much he has changed. 

"No matter how 'ard you try, the past is just that; the past." He sighs and I can almost feel the burden he carries on his shoulders. God, to have killed so many people and wake up one day and feel remorse about it, that's bad enough. But to top that off with hurting the one person he loves more than anyone else, ever, is a bloody knife turned in an already wounded heart. 

"Spike," I say and touch him for the first time since being out here. He tenses noticeably but doesn't pull away and it encourages me to close the distance between us even more. My arm drapes across his shoulders and our legs are touching. I pat his knee with my left hand before trying to put on a genuine smile for him. I guess he feels it because he finally looks up and offers me one in return. 

"The thing is," he continues, "is that I really don't know why I did it. I can't say I was out o' my mind or anything like that. Yeah, I wanted her to love me, to make her see but why I did what I did? Honestly, Bit, I don't think I'll ever really know. And that is why I can't ever forgive myself."

"But you know you won't do it again," I state and he nods bitterly. 

"I know but it still doesn't change what I did."

"And yet you still want to be with her," I point out. "That doesn't make any sense."

"How do you mean?"

"The way you talk, it tells me that you don't think you are worthy of her yet you still want to be with her. It seems if you wanted to torture yourself, you'd refuse to have anything to do with her. You sure as hell wouldn't be making a play for her. Shit, if you wanted to punish yourself, you would have stayed in San Diego." 

"Since when has anything I've done really made sense?" He jokes and we both chuckle at the same times. The thing is that he's right and…

***

…Dawn knows it. Bugger if I know what I'm thinking half the time. But what she doesn't see is that being here, not being able to be with Buffy, is a greater punishment than never having seen her again. I know I told her that I still want her and I do but I know she won't pick me. No one ever has. And maybe, just maybe the pain I'll feel will be penance enough for the suffering I have caused in twelve decades. 

We sit there in silence for quite sometime, taking comfort in each other's company, though I know we're silent because we don't want to bring up the issue that…

"You left," Dawn says tonelessly and I grind my teeth together. This is exactly what I haven't been looking forward to. 

"Dawn…" I start but she cuts me off again. 

"You said you'd protect me till the end of the world. Isn't that what you told Buffy?" She turns to me and I expect to see anger but all that greets me is a limitless well of pain and fear and my insides churn at the knowledge that it's my fault that she feels like this. 

I turn away from her, once again ashamed of my failure. Not only did I fail to protect her on the tower that night but I failed to protect her against the one person I never thought would hurt her. Me. 

"For so long, I felt bad," she starts again, "about what hurt more. I felt guilty that, despite what you did to Buffy, I hated you more for leaving me. Actually, the first few months, I kept praying that you would come back. I was still mad at what you did but I wanted nothing more than for you to be here." Her voice is shaky as she speaks and I touch the hand that she still has on my knee for support and she inhales deeply before continuing. 

"Every night I would look out the window, expecting you to be hanging under the tree. Or when Buffy did let me come and patrol, I would beg her to stop by your crypt. She did sometimes but more often than not, she wouldn't. I think it was too painful for her still. After that first month, I started coming by after school, hoping against hope that you would be there. But you never were. 

"And then," she squeezes my hand and I am made aware of the strength in this beautiful young woman, "one day I just, I just shut down. Tried to burn your coat before Buffy stopped me. I broke down that night and told her everything I felt about my life. That was the last time I cried."

"Until you saw me for the first time the other day," I choke out, the pain of her words clawing into my already damaged soul. I hang my head and stare at the concrete of the steps, vaguely aware of the drop of water that splashes between my legs. I see another one come and then another before Dawn gently lifts my chin up to face her. As much as I want to turn away, I know I owe her that much, to look her eye to eye. 

"Spike, listen to me very carefully," I nod, acquiescing to the conviction of her voice. "I know what you're thinking; that seeing you hurt me and you're right, it did. But," she adds hurriedly before my increasing guilt drowns me, "it gave me back something I thought I lost."

"What…what do you mean?"

"After that night, with Buffy, after crying in her arms I was a totally different person. I didn't open up to anyone, even Buffy and I kept everyone but her at arm's length. But now…"

"But now?" I ask, unable to keep the hope out of my voice. 

"Now, after seeing you, after talking to you, a weight has been lifted from my heart. And it's something that wouldn't have happened were it not for you."

"Dawn…"

" 'Bit," she smiles at me. 

"What do you mean?"  
"That's your name for me, right? Niblet. So, call me 'Bit."

I can't hold in my smile as it splits my face. "So you don't think you're too old for me to call you that?" I needle her but instead of smiling, she turns serious. I fidget, hoping I didn't say anything out of line but her words still my unsteady emotions. 

"Spike, I love you so much. You're as much a part of me as Buffy is and I don't want to ever lose that again. Promise me that you'll always be there?" Her eyes are brimming with tears and the sincerity of her words locks my response deep in my chest. 

When I don't respond right away, she clarifies. "I know you can't promise it realistically, but please, Spike, lie to me." The tears flow freely down her cheeks and I grab her up in my arms, wishing that I could protect her from everything that this world would throw at her. I know I can't do that and I won't tell her that I will. The only thing that I can tell her is…

"Dawn, baby, don't worry. I may not always be there in arms' reach of you but I will always, **always**, be there when you need me. No matter where we are in the world, no matter what's going on, if you ever need me for anything, I will be there. That is what I promise. On my life." 

"Thank you," she whispers and I nestle her deeper into my arms. 

"Till the end of the world, luv," I murmur in her ear, "till the end of the world."

***

The two reconnected best friends sat on the porch in companionable silence for the better part of an hour after Spike made his promise. There was no need for words as they communicated on a much deeper level, with smiles and playful shoves.

"Well, 'Bit," Spike said, draping an arm lazily across Dawn's shoulder, " 's about time for you to get to bed considering the day that's ahead of you."

"Yeah," she replied absently, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. 

"Nervous?" 

"Yeah, I mean no…well, yeah. This is like such a big step in my life. In less than three months I'm going to be in college, in LA no less." Her excitement died down immediately and Spike furrowed his eyebrows at the sudden change. 

"What's wrong, Niblet?" 

"It's…it's just that you've just come back and here I am leaving before we even have time to…" But Spike pressed his fingers to her lips before kissing her on the forehead. 

"Listen here, Bit. There will be none of that rot, okay? You are going out to better yourself, to make big sis and the Scoobies, not to mention your Mum, proud. You're going to grow to do great things, like Buffy has done for herself--it's just not gonna be in good old SunnyHell." He ruffled her hair playfully before continuing. "Besides, it's only two hours away. We could come up there every weekend, well, that is if you aren't already busy with all your friends and those LA prats I'm going to pummel if they look at you wrong."

"Spike," Dawn whined, elbowing him in the ribs. "But you are right, I guess I'm making a big deal about it all."

"Summers genes through and through."

"What do you mean?" 

"Eh, blowin' things out o' bloody proportion." 

"You're insufferable," she stomped to her feet and plastered her hands to her hips. Spike stood as well before laughing heartily. 

"Summers through and through, like I said. So, are you knackered enough to call it a night?" 

"Yes, Mary Poppins," she joked before jumping out of the way of his swiping hand. 

"Summers women," he muttered, following her into the house, "they'll be the death of me yet." 

***

"Spike," Dawn whispered, knocking lightly on his door. "You decent?" 

"Yeah, 'Bit," he said, "C'mon in." He hadn't been in bed more than five minutes and already, he was being interrupted. His annoyance fluttered away when he saw the concern in her face. "What is it?" 

"It's Buffy. I went by her room and I thought I heard crying." 

"Did you check to make sure?" he asked, getting out of bed, thankful that he had worn sweatpants. 

"No, I…I thought it'd be best if I got you." 

"Okay," he said and threw on a shirt, following her to Buffy's door. Pressing his ear to the door, Spike made out the telltale sound of quiet sobs. Without second thought, he opened the door quietly and grabbed Dawn's hand. 

Once in the room, they saw Buffy, her face buried deep into the pillow, her back partially towards the door. Motioning Dawn to go to the other side, Spike sidled up behind Buffy, pressing himself close while Dawn did the same from the other side. A part of him knew he shouldn't be doing this for various reasons but his overall concern for Buffy cancelled out those reasons. 

"There now, luv," he whispered into Buffy's ear, "don't cry. I'm here. Me and the Bit. We're here for you and we always will be, pet. Remember that," he murmured and kissed her hair. Spike felt Buffy's body relax and her sobs trickle off into nothingness. As one hand rested on Buffy's waist, the other cradled her head and he pulled her closer to him. 

As exhaustion began overtaking him, Spike's last thoughts were of his two girls. They were his family and, without them, he would be lost. He had been without them in his life for two years and now that they were back in it, he couldn't imagine having it any other way. 


	17. Part XVI

****

A/N: Hey everybody, I'm back again. Hope everyone is having a happy holiday so far. Sorry this took so long but I was also writing a short fic called _Always a Part of Me _that I'm posting the same day as this. It's heavy on the angst and sadness but I promise that, after this fic is done, I will go back to that one and write the sequel. 

--Well, here's a bit of the graduation. Anya also makes her first appearance. Dawn notices something. Xander and Spike talk. 

__

Do What You Have to Do

Part XVI

Dawn was the first to awaken. The warmth of the sun's rays at her back and its filtration throughout the room beckoned the Key from her peaceful slumber. Though she had shared the bed with two others, she had enjoyed a contented night of sleep. Being so close to the two people she loved most in the world had calmed the hidden insecurities that had plagued the eighteen-year-old since her parents had separated. It had been so long since she had felt this safe and Dawn smiled at the warm feeling within her. 

Her smile grew as she watched her sister and best friend cuddled up together. Buffy was spooned up against Spike, whose chin rested just above the slayer's head. His left arm was wrapped possessively around Buffy's waist while his other arm was draped across the top of the bed. Dawn beamed even more when she saw that, sometime during the night, Buffy's hands had covered Spike's against her stomach. She marveled at the rightness of it all, how the two former mortal enemies created a world of their own, whether fighting or spooned together as they were now. The current scene gave Dawn no reason to doubt that the two were meant to be together. 

Dawn sighed, disappointed that insecurities and stubbornness had been what had driven Buffy and Spike apart the first time. True, what Spike had done was inexcusable, but the more she thought about it the more she understood. The way Buffy had treated him was horrible yet he took it. In many ways, the demon inside of him was an animal and Buffy had taken for granted that that part of him would always obey, always accept what she said and did. But just like an animal who has been continually beaten and kicked, Buffy was given a painful reminder of just how much of a bite Spike still had. 

Dawn winced at the unpleasant images her mind formulated about Buffy and Spike's time together. Two people, full of so much love, abusing one another in the worst ways until there was scarcely anything left to salvage of either one. But they had recovered and now…well, Dawn didn't know what would happen between them. As much as she still wanted to see them together, the ring on Buffy's finger…

Dawn bolted upright, shaking the bed. The other two occupants shrugged in their sleep and nestled even closer together but the brunette didn't notice. What she did notice was that Buffy's ring finger was quite bare. Dawn reached out a shaking hand if only to make sure she was seeing things correctly she and touched where the ring should have been. All that was there was the telltale indentation around Buffy's finger that was only discernable at close range. 

Forcing herself from her bewildered state, Dawn stared at her sleeping sister. It didn't take long for her to realize why Buffy had been crying last night. Evidently she had broken off the engagement with Garrett, making her choice between him and Spike. It must have been so hard for Buffy to decide; knowing that she couldn't get past hurting someone in the process. Dawn's heart went out to both Buffy and Garrett; her sister because the choice made required courage like none other and Garrett because, other than Spike, Garrett was the coolest boyfriend Buffy ever had. She was going to miss him a lot but—but she couldn't deny the exciting butterflies that roared through her stomach at the prospect of Spike and Buffy finally together. Just the thought of it reverted Dawn back to her fifteen-year-old self and it took a conscious effort for her not to squeal in delight. 

__

It's only a matter of time before they work things out and get together, she thought. _And then they'll get married and I'll have lots of nieces and nephews to play with and spoil. They will be so beautiful, _she thought excitedly about her future responsibilities as an aunt. Dawn studied the parents-to-be with a deft eye, examining what the best combination of features for her future nieces and nephews to inherit from their parents. Both Spike and Buffy had beautiful eyes while the former was the master of the cheekbones. Buffy had a natural golden tan to her skin as well as long and thick hair. Of course, it wasn't actually blonde but that really didn't matter now did it? 

Dawn studied the shape and structure of Buffy and Spike's faces from every conceivable angle when a red glint behind Spike's shoulder caught her eye. There on the nightstand was the digital clock. One look at it and…

"Shit!" The sudden exclamation ripped the snuggling couple from sleep and they were instantly alert. 

"Dawn, what's going on?" Buffy asked, her eyes a combination of alarm and fatigue as her younger sister bolted out of the room. 

"What the bleedin' hell? Niblet!" Spike shouted and hopped off the bed, running out the door with Buffy not far behind. They made it to the door of her room before narrowly avoiding being bowled over by the speeding teen. 

"Dawn," Buffy tried in vain to grab her sister to no avail as Dawn hustled to the bathroom. Evidently this crisis was too fast for her slayer reflexes to be of use. 

"It's 10:52!" Dawn screamed from behind the door. 

"And?" The annoyed Brit growled. "Don't think it's standard procedure to go yellin' all sorts o' soddin obscenities to make that bloody well known." 

"No," a clearly frustrated Dawn replied through the crack of the open door. The shower was running in the background and Dawn's face was covered in facial soap. "But when 10:52 means that you are over an hour late to graduation rehearsal then it bloody well is reason to be yellin' all those 'soddin' obscenities' that, for the record, _you _taught me," she punctuated it by sticking a soapy finger at her grouchy best friend before shutting the door in his and Buffy's faces. 

The two former lovers stared at the door before turning towards one another, their eyes bulging. It wasn't long before both were against the wall, weak in laughter.

"Well," Buffy said between chuckles, "I see why she loved hanging out with you."

"And why would that be, luv?" Spike asked as he wiped his teary eyes. 

"Well, from what she said, you seemed to be the Zen Master of swearing." 

"Was not. You've garnered that accusation from nothing but circumstantial evidence." 

"So the word of my little sister can't be trusted now, is that what you're saying?" She cast a serious glance his way and Spike blanched, knowing he was in quite a predicament. But he was saved as Buffy lost her focus and fell to the floor in giggles. 

"Oh my God," she roared, holding her stomach. 

Spike furrowed his brows before he asked, "What?"

"You should have seen your face. Priceless."

"What do you think's so bloody funny?" 

Buffy spewed out some residual chuckles before getting to her feet. She again put the serious visage into place before grasping Spike by the shoulders. 

"You're right, it's not funny. The former 'Big Bad' afraid of the slayer." She sighed dramatically. "What will everyone think? You're image is completely tarnished." Dropping her hands from his shoulders, she gave him a once over, noting the sweats and T-shirt. "Of course, you obviously did that particular feat single handedly when you got dressed for bed." 

Spike frowned but a delicious thought flashed into his mind and a wicked smirk slid into place. He saw the mirth leave Buffy's eyes, replaced with something much darker and lustful. "Whassa matter, luv," he practically sung to her, "jealous that you didn't get to dress me or disappointed that I'm wearing clothes?" 

Buffy gulped at the innuendo, her body responding as Spike closed the short distance between them. Against her will, her eyes raked over his body, taking note at the slow bulge growing below his waist. She licked her lips before her gaze returned to his face. 

Spike's smirk broadened at Buffy's perusal of his body and he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and take her right against the wall. His eyes traveled the length of her pajama-clad figure, noticing her hardened nipples through her shirt. What started out as a tease had turned into something much more real and Spike ignored the chivalrous part of him that preached that Buffy was engaged. His primal instincts--those that remained and were eerily similar to the demon that had been cast out--flared to life and identified the woman in front of him as his and his alone. 

Buffy shivered at the hunger written in Spike's eyes. They had darkened with lust for her and Buffy wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by them, lost in a sea of passion, want and love. They also held a promise to love her without reserve and she was amazed that, even after all these years, his love for her had only gotten stronger. 

She held her breath as he cupped her cheek before she automatically leaned forward. Spike did the same and their lips were only inches apart before a clang disrupted them. 

"Buffy," Dawn pled, "what are you doing? You need to get dressed. I need you to take me to school." 

"Wh—what about Kit or Janice? Can't they get you?" The slayer stuttered, all too aware of Spike's presence. 

"Well, they could, if they were still at home," she driveled sarcastically. "But seeing as they are already there, it's kinda hard to ask."

"Why didn't they call?" Spike asked and was rewarded with a death glare. 

"They would have but someone turned off the ringer in Buffy's room. Gee, I wonder who that could have been, Spike." She spat out the last words before retreating to her room. 

"What did I do?" He much too innocently. When she pushed him with her own steely look, he cracked. 

"I just thought that you shouldn't be disturbed is all." He moved to follow her into the room but was met by a closed door. Slightly hurt by this, Spike turned towards his temporary room until he heard the door open. He turned back to find Buffy staring out at him, smiling shyly. 

"Sorry, but I gotta throw something on to take O' Miss Graduate to school. Get dressed because we need to be there by…"

"12:30," Dawn yelled as she ran down the steps, graduation attire in hand. "Buffy, hurry up! Please." 

"She calls," Buffy said before closing the door again. 

Spike stood there a moment before shaking his head and returning to his room to get ready. He wasn't sure but there was something different about Buffy, something looser? He didn't know how to describe it and was not going to spend time analyzing it. 

"For good or bad, it'll work out," he whispered to himself. And as he grabbed his shower bag, he prayed that it would be for the good. 

*&*

It took me forty minutes to drop Dawn off and get back home. Before leaving, I kissed her goodbye and told her we'd be back soon. She told me that I'd better get Spike's former undead ass in gear before glancing pointedly at my hand, firing out how we 'so need to talk'. Being obtuse Buffy, it took me a moment before I realized what she was hinting at and by the time I mouthed a reply, she was darting to the congregation of students in the courtyard. 

Pulling into Revello, my heart stammers in anticipation. I get out of the car and close it, jumping at the sound. My eyes move across the neighborhood, taking in people getting ready for their Sundays. Some are going to church, others coming from it. Then there are those that are using it as a day to relax with family. Family. It's what everyone desires, what everyone needs. I'm no different. These last two years, with Dawn and the Scoobies, I thought my family was already solidified. Xander was the brother I never had and Willow was a second sister. Even Anya was—well, she wasn't a sibling but more of a cousin that you never knew how to take. Giles had accepted the role of my surrogate father despite his misgivings of taking my biological father's place. And then, with me being engaged to Garrett, well, I thought that everything else had been set in place. 

It wasn't until last night that I figured out how wrong I was. 

"Spike?" I call when I walk through the door. I throw my purse on the couch before heading to the kitchen. I waste no time in pouring myself a nice, healthy glass of orange juice to still the butterfly show in my stomach. I don't know what I'm nervous about—well, actually I do. After last night and then the heated bits of almost in the hall, well, I have plenty to be anxious about.

I'm halfway through the cup when the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs makes me turn towards the living room. A second later Spike comes into view and saunters towards me. 

The breath hitches in my throat as I take in his taut form. Charcoal gray pants creased to perfection around his legs with tailored cuffs at the bottom that kiss the brilliant shine of his shoes. His shirt is the same color and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the silken skin of his forearms. His wrists are decorated nicely: one with a beautiful silver bracelet and the other with a matching watch. My eyes ride up to his chest where the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, leaving with a nice view of the valley that begins his sculpted chest not to mention a thin silver chain. His face is clean-shaven and his eyes glare at me with mirth and desire before I focus on his head. I barely acknowledge the black sunglasses resting on the top of his head; instead I am pleasantly surprised when checking out his tousled locks. His newly bleached blonde locks I might add. 

I can think up a thousand—hell, a thousand thousand—words to describe the beauty in front of me. I open my mouth to say something, determined to be truthful. 

"I better go get dressed," I babble. Coward. 

"That you do," he agrees before he raises his arm to check the time. Even that slight gesture is enough to spin me into a tizzy. 

"What? Huh?" I ask and curse my gracelessness. 

"I agreed with you that you need to get a move on since you have about forty-five minutes before we have to push off."

"You-you're right," I stammer as I pass him, "gotta go get ready." I feel his eyes on me as I walk away and I can't stop the heat from coursing through my cheeks at his visual inspection. It's funny because, for some reason, it gives me confidence. 

I stop and whirl on my heels before dissecting every inch of him with my flaming eyes. I bite my cheek when he visibly flinches at the scrutiny, running his fingers through his hair. I wait until he looks back at me and I leer at him with my most sexually suggestive grin before addressing him. 

"You are so beautiful," I say, my voice thick with admiration and desire. His eyes bulge and I laugh before making my way upstairs. 

As I skip through the halls, I can't help but feel proud of myself for saying what was on my mind. Not only are my steps lighter but my shoulders aren't slouching quite as much. I know there's a lot I have yet to tell him but I will. Soon. I always heard that honesty's the best policy and I think it's high time I follow that particular piece of advice. 

*&*

"When is her bleedin name gonna be called?" Spike ranted from the seats. He sat next to Buffy and, by some magic of Satan, Xander. To Buffy's left was Giles and to Xander's right, Willow. They had talked amicably between one another before the ceremony started and all had been surprised at Xander's less than hostile attitude towards the once more bleached blonde. 

"Her 'bleedin name'," Xander quipped, "as you so elegantly put it, will be called once they get to 'S'. You see, Captain P., these things are done in alphabetical order and since we are now on…"

"Monica Richards," the principal called. 

"R, you won't have to wait much longer." The rest of the Scoobies snickered while Spike only growled muttering unintelligibly under his breath. 

Not two minutes after Spike's initial gripe, the name they had all been waiting for was called. 

"Dawn Summers." The band of five all smiled proudly as the young woman walked to the stage to receive her diploma. Both Willow and Buffy snapped shot after shot of Dawn as she posed with Principal Wood before descending the stairs back to her seat. 

No one spoke, all lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until Spike whispered "my Niblet" that the silence between them was broken. They all glanced at one another briefly, consciously ignoring the watery eyes of one another. 

*&*

"Buffy!" Dawn yelled as the ceremonies commenced. She bolted towards her petite sister and threw her arms around her. Buffy squealed in surprise and delight as she and Dawn embraced. They remained that way for several minutes, tears in both of their eyes before they were enveloped in a powerful group hug that even Giles partook in. 

Spike watched with both envy and pride at the scene before him. He was happy for these people before him, even Harris. How much had they been through these last eight years or so? How many people close to them had they buried? How much heartache had they endured to make it to this point? Too much, he knew. And for that they deserved happiness in their lives. 

But as much as he wished them well, Spike couldn't hide the sliver of resentment at the family before him. He had no illusions that they were more than just a gathering of friends and mentor. Willow, Giles and Xander were just as much a family in relation as Buffy and Dawn were. Blood may not bond them but their love and commitment to one another was what would always tie them together till they were nothing but dust and ash. 

For a few short hours last night as he spooned against Buffy with Dawn on the other side of her, Spike had felt like he was a part of a family for the first time in over a hundred years. He paid no mind to the teasing voice in his head, the voice that whispered so cruelly that, no matter what he did it would never be enough. There weren't enough trials in all of existence for him to pay penance enough to be included. He had caused these people so much grief, how could they possibly welcome him into their folds with open arms? No, they couldn't and he was a fool to believe that it ever could be. He would always be an acquaintance, nothing more. Though he knew Dawn loved him like a brother and that Buffy cared for him (though that may have been through some misdirected feeling of guilt) he would never be part of the gang and that ate at him more than they would ever know. 

"They deserve this, you know. The happiness," a familiar voice whispered in his ear. Spike turned to his right and stared into the face of a beautiful brunette. A face that, last time he had seen it, was filled with guilt of what she had done and grief for the still gaping wound that was sliced open on what should have been the most joyous day of her life. 

"Anya," Spike breathed the name as if it was his salvation. Before he knew it, his arms were wrapped tightly around her slim waist and he sighed when she returned the sentiment. He inhaled her scent, a combination of jasmine and an otherworldliness he could not place. As his hands roamed the expanse of her lower back, he remembered, with guilt, the things they had done on the Magic Box table. Two broken hearts tragically brought together for a last embrace of solace. As he thought back on that night, he couldn't help but wonder why this day, greeting her like this felt so familiar. 

"As wonderful and safe as I feel in your arms," she said, "it would be so much better if I was able to breathe properly."

Spike relinquished his hold on her and smiled sheepishly at the grin that she flashed. She cocked her head to the side and her eyes roamed his body in curiosity before returning to his cerulean eyes. 

"It looks good on you."

Spike furrowed his brows in confusion. "What looks good on me?"

"Humanity," she smiled. 

"Huh. Guess the sun gave it away." 

"That and the incessant chatter a few years ago in the demon community about a legendary warrior that fought for his soul for the love of his enemy," she recited matter-of-factly. 

Spike's eyes widened in shock. It was borne more of Anya's source of information than her actual knowledge of his condition. His eyes narrowed minutely and he scrutinized every inch of her, looking beyond the fuchsia dress that accented her curves. He peered into what he had sensed before, when he had hugged her. That otherworldliness that he couldn't place before was, in truth, quite similar to what he vaguely noticed about her that night two years ago in the Magic Box…

"You're a vengeance demon again," he said in mild surprise. 

"Yep," she smiled and showed him the pendant that hung around her neck. "For two years running now. I thought you would have picked that up during our brief yet wonderful time together." 

Spike ducked his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, luv, but I was a bit too preoccupied with other things." Their eyes met again and they laughed, understanding passing between them. Anya was intimately aware of never being able to fit into the tight knit group that was the Scoobies. They would always lie on the outer fringes, invited in but never completely accepted. From the looks of her, Anya had recognized that and she seemed to be fine with it. Spike's admiration for her rose to even further heights at this knowledge. 

"Anya," Xander called over. Both Anya and Spike turned towards the former Scoobie huddle to see the brunette striding towards them. He gave Spike a curt nod before giving Anya a tentative hug. Spike smiled at it, knowing from his conversation with Buffy that the formerly engaged couple were trying to rebuild the bridges of trust that were broken down their wedding day. Speaking of Buffy, Spike thought as he glanced towards her. For a brief second a hint of—something—clouded her hazel eyes before it was swallowed up by her brilliant smile. He shook his head, passing it off as a trick of the light. 

"Hey Xander," Anya smiled into her former fiancé's cheek. She sighed inwardly at the feel of his strong arms around her, missing the security and comfort that accompanied it. So many times this past year, after they had become wary friends she had wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and stay there only to remind herself of what happened the last time she did that. 

"Watch it now, Miss," Xander quipped before he gingerly pulled away from Anya, his hand automatically going to his ribs.

Anya noticed it right away and furrowed her eyebrows in concern. "You're hurt."

"Yeah," he said and cast a knowing glance towards Spike, a glance that Anya followed expertly. She growled in annoyance when she saw the slight discoloration at the bridge of the ex-vampire's nose. 

"Will you two ever grow up?" She growled and stomped away towards the rest of the group, leaving the two men staring at her wake. 

"Well," Spike drawled as Anya greeted the others, "guess I finally got you to myself, whelp."

Xander chuckled before concern tore across his face. "I don't know about you, but that didn't come across as comforting as you would have wanted." Spike stared at him in horror before they both shared an uneasy chuckle. 

*&*

"It's wonderful to see you again, Anyanka," Giles smiled as he hugged the vengeance demon. 

"You too, Rupert." After the nearly avoided apocalypse and Anya taking care of him when he was close to dying, Giles had developed quite an affection for the once blonde. Unknown to the Scoobies, she had been the one to take care of him when the others were off to work or school, teleporting in and out of his rented flat, until he was well enough to travel back to England. Though they both had developed a crush on the other during that time, nothing passed between them except for a few stolen kisses every now and then. Well, except for that one time when she came to visit him in England…

"Sorry that I missed the dinner, Dawn," Anya apologized to the graduate before dragging Dawn into a warm hug."

"It's okay, Anya. I know you were busy." 

"As a matter of fact I was. There was this guy in Modesto that was an abusive prat to his girlfriend. Well, when I talked to her she wished that he had to crawl in the ground like the slimy worm that he was…"

"Anya," Buffy interrupted, shaking her head, "as much as we would like to hear about your latest _project_, it would be quite helpful if you ixed-ne the engeance-ve talk for the time being." The slayer gave a pointed glance to the graduates closest to them. 

"Oh," the brunette exclaimed before lowering her voice and saying to Dawn, "We'll talk later." 

"Um, sure," the girl replied. 

"But for now," Anya pleasantly announced before she dug into her purse, "I'd like to present to the graduate with her gift. It's traditional to give a graduating member of school a gift. Of course, I never got one when I graduated." 

Dawn smiled gratefully when Anya handed her the elongated jewelry case. She opened it excitedly and gasped at the necklace before her. 

"Is…is that?" Giles stammered before removing his glasses for a closer inspection. 

"The Crystal of Sh'rad," Willow whispered. "But Giles, I thought you said that was a myth." 

"What's a Crystal of charades?" Buffy asked. 

"Sh'rad," Anya corrected. 

"Okay. What is it?"

"The Crystal of Sh'rad is a talisman of sorts."

"It's a protection talisman created in Ancient Egypt by a secret sect of Egyptian mages," Willow added for Giles. 

"So what does it do?" Dawn asked, her eyes roaming over the elegant gold carvings that encircled the crystal. 

"It works as a radar of sorts. The wearer will be alerted to any supernatural presence that intends injury upon--well, in this case, her--in the immediate vicinity. It can also be described as--a, a sort of…"

"Universal phone card," Anya quipped. On Buffy and Dawn's looks, she explained. "With it, Dawn will always be able to locate and 'talk' to those that she binds to the Crystal."

"Binds?" Dawn asks.

"Yes. You do the ritual thing with anyone you want to be able to contact in a circle. Once done, no matter where you are in the world, you will be able to locate them and they will be able to feel if you're all right if need be." 

Dawn looked to Anya and then back to Buffy before they both stare back at the Crystal before whispering simultaneously, "Wow." 

*&*

Spike motioned to walk towards the others a minute after Anya left. He was desperate to leave behind the uncomfortable silence he and the whelp were sharing. Not one step into his retreat, a warm hand touched his shoulder. 

"Spike," Xander ventured. The former vampire turned towards Xander, unable to hide the confusion from crossing his face. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but he thought there had been a hint of sincerity in the whelp's voice…

"What's up, Harris?" He tried to throw on his patented sarcastic veneer but knew it wasn't up to par.

"About the other day," he started and ducked his head before sliding his hands into his pockets. 

"No worries, mate. I said some things, you said some things. You know what they say--"

"Boys will be boys," the brunette finished. He chuckled dryly. "Well, yeah. You're right about that." He stopped to think before he continued. "You know, to be honest, it's about things that happened way before the other day." 

Spike crossed his arms over his chest, uncertain as to where Xander was heading but kept silent. 

"I've never liked you. In fact, I hated you. Hell, what with the trying to kill us all countless times, I think I had a pretty good reason to." He looked up at Spike who only nodded. Xander took a deep breath, mustering all of his strength courage to get this out. 

"Look, I know we've had our differences and I mean before you started helping us. Fact of the matter was that, I don't know, I guess I was jealous."

"Jealous?" Spike couldn't hide his surprise.

"Yeah. When you started helping us, even if it was for money, when Buffy or Giles needed backup, you were the first name that came up. Couple the fact that they relied on you more than me and you being a vampire, well, doesn't bode too well for too many episodes of male bonding.

"But, when all the Glory stuff came to a head, I guess I saw something different about you. Actually, I saw it from the beginning, I think but I wouldn't let myself admit it. I just have this thing with demons, you know. Makes things easier." Xander examined the grass underfoot and kicked it with the toe of his shoe. 

"I guess what I'm trying to say is--sorry." The last word was muttered and Spike strained to hear it. 

"Did you just say…?" he trailed off, waiting for the brunette to continue. 

"Yes I did. I said I'm sorry about the way I treated you back then. Even if I didn't trust you, you still earned our--my respect. I was the only one of the group that didn't see any of your redeeming qualities."

"Like my charm and good looks?" Spike said and arched his scarred brow. 

"You wish, Dead Boy, er, Ex-Dead Boy." Xander flashed a shy grin before running a hand through his hair. He sobered immediately and held out his hand. 

"Look, Spike," Xander said despite the wavering in his gut, "you and me both know that we'll never be best buddies but we can respect one another. And while that may be hard," he sighed deeply, "I'm willing to try." 

Spike was thunderstruck by Xander's apology and he eyed the outstretched hand in bewilderment. He had only remembered a handful of times that he and the whelp had been on amiable terms. The two that came to mind the most was when he had seen a distraught Xander at the bar, torn between his girlfriend and best friend. They had chatted over a game of pool with Spike lending an ear. He had given his advice, sans hostility. The other time had been during the run from Glory. Throughout most of that trip, they had been comrades in arms. But that hadn't lasted. Although they worked together during that horrible summer, when Buffy returned, everything had returned to normal. And it all came to a head after his tryst with Anya. Though he would never tell, the disgust Xander had looked at Anya with when he found out she and Spike had slept together had hurt Spike more than he let on. It only confirmed that he was nothing but a thing to them. 

Shaking himself from the pangs of the past, Spike took Xander's proffered hand and smiled. "Me too, whelp," he said sincerely. "Me too." 

*&*

After a half-hour of mingling, the Scoobies decided to call it a day and retreated to the confines of the slayer's home. There they chatted amiably for several hours before they finally started to disperse. Xander and Giles were the first to leave, with the latter promising to stop by the next day. Afterwards, Willow bid her adieu, smiling shyly about meeting a girl named Kennedy for an evening coffee. Anya stuck around to tell Buffy, Dawn and Spike a little more about the Crystal and the ritual Dawn needed to use to connect herself with the others and the vengeance demon ensured the slayer that there was nothing dangerous about it at all. Before leaving she promised that she Giles and Willow would go over the particulars later in the week. 

"So, Bit," Spike said as the three of them sat in the living room flipping through the channels, "you're a graduate now. How does it feel?"

"Hey," Buffy answered and shoved him playfully; "I'm the sister, I'm supposed to ask that." She pouted but scowled when a flicker of hurt crossed the blonde's features. 

"Sorry, luv," he muttered, "don't wanna be oversteppin' me bounds." Dawn also noted the change and decided that it was time for her to make a change of scenery. 

She stood up and yawned dramatically. "Well, I think I'll call it a night."

"But it's not even ten," Buffy complained, not wanting to be alone with Spike just yet. 

"Well, you know what they say," Dawn smiled a bit too brightly before kissing both Spike and Buffy on the cheek. "Early to bed and all." 

"But…" The phone rang causing Buffy to jump. 

"I'll get it!" Dawn bolted through the house. 

"Well," Spike drawled and firmly planted his false bravado in place. "That was quite the interestin' scene."

"Yeah," Buffy muttered. "She was awful quick to go to bed tonight. And to think, I used to have to twist her arm to get upstairs."

"Oh how times change," Spike sung overdramatically and was promptly slapped on the thigh. "Oy! What was that for, Slayer?"

"For…for being you," she huffed and crossed her arms. Spike tried to plaster a look of hurt on his face but couldn't when he saw Buffy's face. 

"What?" Buffy demanded when she saw his overbearingly bright grin. 

"Nuthin'. S'just that you look so cute when you pout."

"Gee, thanks."

"No worries, pet," he said, ignoring her obvious sarcasm. 

They sat there in silence, stealing glances at one another, both not really wanting to be the first to ask about the night before. They both looked up when Dawn slipped back in, her eyes awash with sympathy. 

"That was Garrett," she said softly, "he apologized for not making it to my graduation but he's going to take me out tomorrow to make it up to me."

"Oh," was Buffy's only response before she focused intently on an invisible spot on her dress. 

"Yeah, well, I'm heading to bed. Night all," Dawn called over her shoulder before disappearing upstairs. 

Buffy's mind was a whirl of emotions and she didn't know how to even begin to control them. The only things that broke through the fears and uncertainty were Spike's face after she told him it was over two years ago and Garrett's after she had given him back the ring. Though she had given the latter a hope of sorts, nothing could wash away the raw pain in two sets of eyes--one cerulean blues, the other shadowed gray--which she had caused. _That's all I ever do. Cause those I love pain, _she thought bitterly before a warm hand cupped the side of her face. 

Spike had whispered Buffy's name several times to no avail. He had wanted nothing more than to touch and hold her but had quashed the urge in favor of waiting for her to make the first move. That was the plan until he saw those luminescent green eyes of her pool with tears before they escaped from their prison, dashing for freedom down her soft cheeks. He was by her side in an instant, kneeling before her as if he wanted to place _his _ring on her finger. He briefly saw the irony of his position but slammed the door shut on all emotions that didn't have to do with Buffy's current condition. 

Buffy stared into Spike's eyes for several minutes, unsure of what to do. She wanted to talk to him, _needed _to talk to him. There was so much she had buried that she wanted to say, so much that even the new Buffy had a hard time coming to terms with. She opened her mouth to speak only to have a harsh croak echo from her lips. His eyes furrowed in concern and that one gesture caused her to lose control on her unraveling emotions. 

The force of Buffy crashing into him sent Spike off-balance and he fell back into the table, the impact pushing it across the floor. He winced at the edge hitting him in the center of the back but the slight discomfort was forgotten as he held his slayer in his arms. 

Tears poured down Buffy's cheeks though there were no heartfelt sobs though if there were, the petite woman would never have known. Her mind was too busy focusing on the comforting feel of this man in her arms. Every so often her mind retreated to the night before and what she had told Garrett, promised him, but she was more concerned with the now and Spike. She worried that Spike had assumed that she had called everything off with Garrett, deciding to be with him at last. And while she had broken the engagement, the other part wasn't quite true. She could tell by the way he whispered to her, stroking her hair, that Spike's hopes had crashed through the fluctuating ceiling he always had with her. His greatest dream was almost in his grasp and he couldn't help but get high at the prospects of it coming to fruition. Hell, who wouldn't? That's why it was so hard for her to stop crying. Because, after all was said and done, she would hurt him all over again but she had no choice. 

She cried harder when Spike murmured words of love in her hair. God, it was hard enough to come to a decision in the first place. It was going to be next to impossible for her to tell Spike that she wasn't going to run into his arms and pledge her undying love to him. 

The only thing harder for her would be Spike hating her for it once she finally came clean. 

And there was no doubt in her mind that he would do just that. 

***Do you hate me just yet? Well, I usually don't say this but trust me. I know the last part of this chapter and Buffy's thoughts don't sound too Spuffy but trust me. That's all I will say. 

***Next chapter, Spikey gets a visit from an old friend and Spike will find out just what that emotion that crossed Buffy's face when he hugged Anya was…

***Did I mention "Trust Me"? Good. Make sure you do it. ;-)


	18. Part XVII

Do What You Have to Do

Part XVII

            In his dreams he was with her. She was his and he hers and there was no one else. Every kiss, every touch of her lips or her fingertips sent a jolt of electricity through his body. Her hazel eyes were always filled with her love for him, the love he had always desired to see in a lover's eyes. 

He staggered away as he saw her predatory gaze ravage his body. Never had he imagined that she would see him like this, as a lover, wholly and completely. 

He bit his lip when her hand cupped his angular cheek. He stifled a groan when she leaned forward and darted her tongue out to catch the moisture from his lips. She traced their every curve and he fought to control his desire to devour her on the spot. No, he would let her lead, knowing that wherever she went he would follow even after all these years. 

Her small hands, hands that carried so much strength, gripped his erection with a gentleness that shook him. Her delicate fingers worked him through the fabric of his thin pants. 

"Buffy," he moaned as his hand found her trim waist. Her strokes became more demanding and her tongue flitted in and out of his mouth. His hips pushed forward of their own volition and his hand fell to her small yet supple bottom. 

"Spike, my love," she moaned into his mouth as her breathless pants increased. Her teasing tongue became demanding and she thrust it into his mouth. Spike almost coughed at her commanding urgency. 

"Buffy," Spike whimpered as her hands pressed against his chest, "Buffy, God, I love you." 

"Spike, my love," she said again and pressed him more urgently with her hands. "Spike, wake up." 

"Spike, wake up," Buffy whispered to her former lover. After her crying fit of last night, they had fallen asleep on the floor, not quite nestled together like the night before but their hands had been intertwined. It had only been her second night of contented sleep in the last six months and, ironically, both nights had been by the side of the man that lay in front of her. 

The same man that had woken her up with gentle yet probing hands. 

"Spike," Buffy repeated to no avail. His insistent hands were firmly grasping her butt and though she wanted him to stop, it wasn't because she didn't want to feel his touch. On the contrary, it was taking all of her willpower not to return his affectionate caresses…

"Buffy," he whimpered as he pulled her flush against his body. She gasped at the erection that poked against her stomach and unintentionally dug her nails into his chest. 

"Bloody hell," Spike yelped and jumped back. Buffy swallowed a giggle at the look of shock etched across his features. 

"Are you awake now?" She asked all too brightly and laughed at Spike's scowl. 

"Well, my eyes 're open, aren't they?" He huffed and rolled onto his stomach. Of course, when he did so, he was made distinctly aware at just how awake he truly was. 

Buffy saw Spike's eyes widen and the flush of he cheeks. She scrunched her face up in confusion until she saw him wiggle his hips as if to…

"And to think," She said, smirking, "I didn't do anything." 

Spike cocked his head to the side and stared at Buffy, hoping against hope that she wasn't talking about what she thought he was because, for some reason, he was feeling quite sheepish this morning. 

_Well, that wish strikes out lookin', he thought as her upturned lips gave away the fact that she knew exactly what his 'problem' was. _

"As if," he muttered and groaned when Buffy laughed again. 

"'As if'?" She asked incredulously. "Did you just say 'as if'?" 

"Yeah," he responded defensively, "what of it?"

"Well, nothing really." She rolled over to her back and clasped her fingers together behind her head as she looked at the ceiling. "It's just that, I don't know, what with the whole Alicia Silverstone thing, I think you have officially waived your right to be referenced as the 'Big Bad' ever again." 

Spike groaned and buried his face into the carpet. Buffy laughed again and pulled her legs up, crossing the right over the left. Her leg bounced up and down for several minutes before Spike risked another glance at his love. 

Cor, she's beautiful, he thought as his eyes took in the wonderful sight of a joyful Buffy. Though she still wore the same clothes from the day before, her soulful glow was unmistakable. Her gray blouse clung to her breasts and bunched just enough to show off her taut belly. As her leg bobbed back and forth, the slit on the side of her long skirt gave the peroxide blonde a good peek at Buffy's tanned legs. But her smile was what drew most of his attention. That and her sparkling eyes made Spike couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about that made her so happy, especially after the tears she had spilled the night before. 

Almost instantly, Spike's thoughts flickered to his abrupt wake up at the hands of the slayer. He had obviously been acting out the dream he had been having and Buffy had taken exception to that. He smiled to himself before a sliver of fear bloomed in his stomach as the memories of that one, horrible night bled into his mind. _Buffy struggling against his insistent hands as she begged him to stop. The look of terror and betrayal written all over her face as she held her tattered robe to her chest.  _

_"Ask me again why I could never love you." As her words drifted through his mind, Spike bit his cheek, drawing blood. The sting behind his eyes only intensified the anguish growing in his belly and Spike knew that he couldn't contain his grief much longer. _

"Buffy?" He whispered and closed his eyes when she turned toward him. Won't do any good for her to see me about to crack up, he thought and took several steadying breaths. 

"Yeah?" Buffy answered. She had been lost in the feel of being against Spike, of their hands laced together during the night, cherishing the safety she felt in being so close to him. She knew he felt it too and that's why, now, she stared at him in trepidation, knowing there was something wrong. 

"I didn't…I didn't 'urt you, did I?" he asked furtively. 

"What do you mean? Hurt me when?" She stared at him intently, as if she could will him to open his eyes so she could see what he was thinking but they remained closed. 

"This mornin'. When you tried to wake me. I didn't 'urt you…I wasn't 'urtin' you was I?" Buffy's heart burned at the fear behind his words and, before she could think about it, she leaned over and kissed him chastely on the lips. 

Spike's eyes widened in surprise at the tender gesture and when Buffy pulled away, he brought his fingers to his lips, wonder clearly etched in his features. 

"No," Buffy said after a few minutes, "you didn't hurt me." Spike sighed at her admission, and returned her smile tentatively before relaxing once more against his hands. 

They lay there in silence for the better part of an hour, both lost in a legion of thoughts that they both wanted and needed to share with the other. But they were both afraid; afraid of breaking the contented atmosphere that had formed around them and afraid of the answers their questions would receive. No, it would be better to indulge on the peaceful repose awhile longer because, God knows, it wouldn't last. 

"Buffy?" Spike ventured at last. His tone was quiet and unsure and it sounded to Buffy like the voice of a shy poet, a man out of his own time.  

"Yeah?" her response was equally timid, as a part of her instinctively knew what he was going to say. 

"What…what did you say to Garrett last night?" Sighing reflexively, Buffy rolled onto her side in order to face the peroxide blonde. At her unspoken behest, he turned his head toward her and when their eyes met, both could taste the other's uncertainty and heartache, a bitter wine they had both become familiar with during the long years. 

"Spike, I really don't know where to begin," Buffy admitted and swallowed the tears that crawled behind her eyes. 

"What about the beginning?"  He offered and she smiled at the support that glistened between his words. 

"Well, I was born…"

"Buffy," Spike warned playfully. 

"Fine, fine. Sheesh. Mr. Spoilsport," she muttered, rolling her eyes before the seriousness of her talk with Garrett took over. 

Spike saw the hesitancy in Buffy's gaze, the weight of the situation heavy on her thin shoulders and he reached his hand out to her. She stared at it for a few seconds before reaching hers out and grasping it. It was automatic how their fingers interlaced and Buffy took a moment admire the near perfection of the pose. When she looked up, she saw Spike doing the same thing though there was a trace of confusion marring his sculpted features. It didn't take long before Buffy realized what it was but before she could say anything, Spike lips curled into an almost imperceptive smile before he returned his attention back to her hazel eyes. 

_Well, that's not quite how I wanted to start out, she mused humorlessly.  __But I guess we have to start somewhere. _

"Yeah, about that," she said and turned her ring-less finger over in his hand. 

"What happened?" Though he couldn't help but feel ecstatic, Spike also felt a sense of guilt about the whole thing. She had obviously called off the engagement and he was happy about that but he knew it hurt her to do it. Moreover, Garrett had proven to be a right decent bloke and Spike would never wish such a heartbreak on any man in love. 

Well, maybe Angel, he thought amusedly before focusing back on his blonde spitfire. _Not yours yet, mate, he reminded himself and used his other hand to stroke Buffy's disheveled locks. _

"I gave him back the ring," she said, "as you can obviously see. I-I really had no choice." 

"Why?"

"Because," she said as if the word explained it all. She dropped her gaze at the intensity of Spike's cerulean jewels. There was so much hope staring back at her that Buffy almost faltered at what she had to say. 

"Because, I wasn't being fair to him. To be honest, I haven't been fair to him for the past six months."

"I thought you were happy." 

"I was. It's just that," she sighed in frustration. "It's just that one day I was fine and then, the next…it was just like something wasn't right.

"Even then, I fought it and said yes when he proposed. I just thought it was jitters about being so close to someone and expecting them to leave, so I shook it off. It wasn't until two months ago that I could no longer ignore the feeling. Took all of about two hours to realize that it had to do with you.

"After I figured out that my unease had to do with you, it didn't take long for me to understand that, at the very least, it had to do with our lack of closure. I was still harboring a lot of feelings about you. Some good, some bad, but most of it was a jumbled cluster fuck."

"Cluster fuck?" He arched an eyebrow at her amusedly. 

"I watch those army movies sometimes," she said defensively. They both chuckled before she regained her confidence. 

"Anyway, I just didn't know what I wanted to do. I had already admitted to myself that you were important to me but just how important I didn't know." _Still don't know, she added silently. _

"So that's why you went to Peaches? Cause you knew he could find me." 

"Yeah. And let me tell you, not fun in the least."

"I remember you tellin' me." Spike smiled at Buffy and the petite blonde shivered at the sincerity of his upturned lips. 

"Yeah, well, you know the rest." 

"Yeah, I do. Everything except last night, luv." 

"Of course," Buffy sighed, "last night." 

"Buffy, if you…"

"No," Buffy interrupted, "I owe you this much. Hell, I owe him this much." The cramping in her stomach that had gradually increased since she had begun speaking clamped over her abdomen with a brutal intensity. She wished she could call a timeout to catch her breath but that would not be possible. _Suck it up, Slayer, she encouraged herself and decided to continue without any more excuses. _

"I told him about the other night during patrol when we--you know." 

"Oh, I know all right. So, what did Garrett the Gray say?" 

"What would you say?"

"Somethin' not appropriate for your delicate ears, luv."

"What-the-freak ever. Anyway, I even told him that you were the one that stopped it all. Needless to say, he was really hurt by that. I didn't want to tell him but I knew that I had to be truthful about it."

"So what happened afterwards?"

"It got a bit intense. You know how I can be when I get mad. He said something I didn't like and I hit him." The last words were a mere whisper and Buffy cringed when she saw Spike wince, the former vamp no doubt remembering some of the times she had done the same to him. Shame coursed through Buffy at the memories and the tears she had kept at bay made their presence known. It wasn't until Spike cupped her cheek that she risked a look at her former lover. 

"Did you apologize to him?" He asked softly, surprising Buffy with the question. 

"Yeah, I did. Afterwards, we talked about you. More specifically, what I felt. About you." 

Spike arched an eyebrow. "Me? What about?"

"He asked if--if I was in love with you."

*&*

At Buffy's words my heart sputters to a complete stop for a millisecond. That is, of course, until it starts up again at a right violent pace. My mind careens out of control as I remember how, at one time, I had been sure that Buffy loved me. Of course, that particular fantasy of mine quickly turned into my greatest shame. 

I know that Buffy cares deeply for me. Hell, wouldn't 'ave asked for Peaches to track me down like a soddin' bloodhound if she didn't. So, yeah, I think she may love me. And a right lucky bloke I am for that. But in love with me? Not so sure 'bout that. Hell, who am I kiddin'? I won't even entertain that thought. Can't afford to if I 'ave to settle for bein' friends. 

            I shake my head, hoping that it will clear the emotional fog blanketing my thoughts but to no avail. Everything's still as muddled as before though I do finally regain my ability to speak. 

            "He asked you that?" My voice is unsteady but I don't care. Buffy nods and I glance at our still entwined fingers. I don't even know how I get the next question out but when it comes out, my breath catches in my lungs as I wait for her to reply. 

            "What…what did you say?" As the words leave my mouth, Buffy stiffens and her grip on my fingers intensifies uncomfortably though I push it aside. 

            "I…I told you…" She trails off and my heart cascades into the pit of my stomach. Her hesitation can only mean one thing; she may not be engaged but she doesn't want to be with me, either. 

            "Spike, I…" she hesitates again and I try to give her my best smile though I don't think she falls for it. 

            "You don't have to say it, luv. I know you care for me and all, but it's just not that way is it?" Her mouth gapes open but before she can reply, I cut her off. " 'S'not like I deserve it, either, that's for damn sure. Doesn't matter what you said anyway. What matters is that you get what you want, what _you deserve. And that's happiness."  _

            "But that's just the thing, Spike. I have no clue what I want. I mean, yeah I gave him back the ring and officially broke off the engagement and everything but what does that mean?" 

            "Depends on what you told 'im, pet," I reply, aiming for cocky but miss the mark completely. Buffy just stares at me. Her anger and frustration is apparent through the film of moisture glistening over her eyes. 

            "What? Just bein' truthful, slayer," I add defensively and she rolls her eyes in annoyance. I tell you; sometimes this chit can be so bloody difficult that even my lack of patience seems virtuous by comparison. 

"Yeah, that's you; William the Truth," she deadpans. I growl at her flippant attitude but say nothing. I want her to tell me whatever it is that went on without having to pry it from 'er grasp like I'm the soddin' jaws of life. 

"I told him," she says after a few quiet minutes of reflection, "that I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. The only thing that I did know was that, with me feeling like this, I couldn't keep his ring and that 'hiatus' crap wasn't going to work. He told me that I should take some time, step away from things for a bit before I even contemplate making a decision." 

I nod solemnly before it strikes me just what she's saying. I stare at her in disbelief, knowing that I look like a poofter but I don't care. Besides, she's not lookin' at me anyway. 

"I promised him I would. Take some time, I mean. I know how he feels about me. Couple that with the fact that I'm even considering about being with someone else hurts him so bad. And it hurts me, too." She props her head on her other arm and fixes her luminescent pupils on one of my shirt buttons. 

"I also told him that I would stay away from you, too."

"Stay away? What do you mean?" I can't help the danger that creeps into my voice and, for an instant, I almost feel as if I'm gonna vamp out. Kinda hard, though with no demon inside o' me. 

Buffy notices my change and looks at me placating eyes and the Spike-o-meter drops to tolerable levels. 

"He doesn't expect me to stop seeing you or anything like that. He's not that crazy," she says and her lips twist in a light smirk, "but…" she trails off and I nod in understanding. And acceptance. 

"But our current arrangement needs to be re-evaluated." 

"Big time," she says and pulls her hand away from mine, though it is with a reluctant sigh. "As much as I want you here, it's not right to have to stay here. I knew it wasn't right for the beginning but I pretty much overrode sensible Buffy but I didn't want you out of my sight. I was too afraid that when I turned around, you would be gone to parts unknown."

            My hand moves up to her face and my fingertips dance across the silken skin of her cheek. "Told ya, luv, that I'm here to stay. No matter what 'appens, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

            "Promise?" 

            "Til the end of the world." 

            Her eyes glistens with unshed tears as she smiles although the latter is quite fleeting. "How can you be so calm?" 

            "Not sure I get you." 

            "How can you be so understanding knowing that I don't even know if I want to be with you?" She lowers her eyes and I watch in sorrow as she worries her lip in shame. "I thought you would hate me." 

            A brief flash of anger crosses my features and Buffy tenses, undoubtedly sensing my mood change. I lift her chin up so she has to look me in the eye and a lance of pain slices into when I see the two single tears sliding down her cheeks. 

            "I will tell you this one time and one time only." I pause. " 'ell, I'll tell you this as much as you need me to. Buffy, I will never hate you. No matter what 'appens between us, I will always love you. You bein' in my arms or me bein' on the other side of the bleedin' planet won't change that. You're in my gut, Summers. Always have been, always will be, I reckon." She stares at me with eyes so full of sadness, hope and fear that I decide to try and lighten the mood. 

            "Now, that's not to say that I still won't want to rip your bleedin' head off from time to time, but that goes without sayin'." 

            "So why did you say it?" She asks quietly though I can see the makings of a smile just visible at the corners of her mouth. 

            "Didn't want you to think I'm _totally whipped. Gotta maintain at least a hint o' the Big Bad, luv." _

            "I'm so sure," she exclaims sarcastically and rolls her eyes. "So, you understand, about you not being able to stay here?" 

            "Buffy, don't worry 'bout me, okay? I was gonna go out later on today, look at some flats across town. But I gotta wait till my car gets here." 

            "I hope it's better than the de Soto." 

            "Oy, Slayer. You're treadin' in dangerous waters talkin' bout my black beauty."

            "Do me a favor, nix the black beauty thingy. Reminds me too much of your crazy ex ho-oney," I chuckle as she covers her tracks. 

            "Deal." She gives me a warm smile and before tackling me in a bear hug. She pulls away and gives me a sheepish bat of her eyes before she sits up. 

            "Know what time it is?" 

            "Twenty after nine," I say after a quick peek at my watch. 

            "Think it's about time to get up, don't you?" She asks and stands up. I lick my lips unconsciously at the golden expanse of her leg through the slit of her white skirt. My eyes roam over her body, envious at how intimately the skirt and blouse grip her delicious curves. 

            "Already up, luv," I say without thinking and when I realize what I said my furious blush matches hers. 

            "Well, uh, yeah. Well, I'm about to take a shower, okay?"

            "Yeah, sure thing, luv. I'll, uh, I wager I'll do the same."

            "Good," she replies a bit too eagerly. "Well, I'm going," she says and begins to walk out of the room. She stops before getting out of view and turns around to face me. 

            "Thank you." 

            "For what?" I ask as she turns away and though she never turns around, her single word drifts across the space between us. It signifies what I would do for her, what I would give up for her. It is what I want her to have and, ultimately, what she means to me. 

            Everything. 

*&*

            Buffy leaned her head against the cool tiles of the bathroom, reveling in the warmth of the water's deluge. She had allowed (or was that forced) the water to rinse away the tension that the past twelve hours had thrown at her. 

            A wave of sadness washed against Buffy as she remembered Garrett's face last night, the pain and disappointment staring out at her from his gray eyes. He had resigned their fate to what she decided in the coming weeks. He hadn't given her a timeframe but had firmly told her that she had to decide something, not just for him and Spike, but for her as well. 

            Although she agreed with his conjecture, it was still difficult to go through with it, knowing that, sooner or later, she would have to close the book on one man in her life. She knew that whomever was not chosen would still be important to her and they would continue to talk. But gone would be the intense mental and emotional connection she had made with Garrett the last two years and the past few days with Spike. 

            At the thought of her former lover, Buffy sighed. How had she, in less than a week, gotten so attached to the same man that had, at one time, wanted nothing more than her head on a post? Yeah, he hadn't been her enemy in years but that was beyond the point. Hell, not two years ago, he held her down in the other bathroom and tried to…

            Buffy shivered and turned the hot water on even further. Even now, when she thought about that night, her body reacted involuntarily. The funny thing was, though, was that, as much as she had been around Spike, as much as they had touched, never did she pull away in revulsion. Spike may have done it but she hadn't. Buffy smiled to herself at the implications of not pulling away; finally, after so many months of alternating between damning him and wishing for his return, the wound that his violation had left in her had finally healed. Though the scar would always be there, no longer would she have to worry about it reopening. 

            Satisfied with the shower, Buffy turned the water off and stepped onto the soft bathroom rug. She used an oversized towel to dry off before wrapping it around her body and trudging to her room. Making her way directly to the closet, Buffy searched for what would be her daily attire. She had one more day of vacation before she had to return to the bank and wanted to wear some comfortable clothes _not associated with slayage. It didn't take her long to find a pair of white shorts and her purple tank top that had _Slayer _written across the chest in silver. _

            Buffy sat on the bed and coated her skin with baby oil. She put on her purple thong and bra set that she had lain out earlier. After fastening her shorts, she slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops before tugging the tank top over her head. 

            "Stupid hair," the blonde muttered after running a hand through her wet locks. She ran a brush through it quickly and shook her head, laughing as drops of water assaulted the mirror. "Okay, Summers, time to start acting your age." Checking herself over in the mirror one more time, Buffy headed out her door…

            And right into a half naked Spike. 

            "Don't you ever put some clothes on," Buffy demanded, attempting to hide her fluster. Spike saw through her guise and smirked. 

            "So now it's a problem, luv? Didn't think that would 'appen. Guess I'm losin' my appeal."

            "Whatever," Buffy muttered and shoved him in the chest. Her flesh burned from where she touched him and she felt the heat intensify throughout her small frame. 

            _Oh God, Spike. If you only knew how much I want you, she thought before quickly reprimanding herself. She had a decision to make and continuing to let Spike affect her like this was not of the good. If she was going to be with Spike, if she was even going to consider it, it had to be about something more than the physical. It had to be about trust and love and devotion. Yes, passion would be a big part of it but if she let it become the focal point of things…well, it would definitely end badly, just like before. _

            "Buffy." The slayer snapped out of her thoughts when Spike snapped his fingers in her face. 

            "What?" 

            "Doorbell, luv." 

            "That may be Garrett," Dawn called out from her door. 

            "Morning to you, too, Dawn," Buffy replied sarcastically to her unseen sister. "That why you took so long getting ready?" 

            "What do you think, luv?"

            Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed before stomping away, tossing over her shoulder something about 'sarcastic ass blonde ex-vampires not being able to answer a question'. 

            She heard Spike chuckle behind her but chose to ignore it as she bounded down the steps. The doorbell chimed again as she reached the landing and Buffy huffed in annoyance. 

            "All right, all right, I'm coming," she yelled and peeked out the window. Her brow furrowed when she saw the black Firebird convertible outside. 

            "That's not Garrett's car," she said and made her way to the door. The sight the greeted her was the last thing she expected. 

            The visitor at the door was a woman. She was about five-eight or so and was dressed in and white silk jogging suit with red trim with sneakers to match. A black leather purse hung over one shoulder and a set of keys dangled in one hand. Her raven hair was tied in a ponytail, giving Buffy a perfect view of her immaculate face. 

            The sun shone off her bronze skin and the slightest trace of lipstick coated her lips. The dark sunglasses she wore masked her eyes but her pencil thin eyebrows arched in amusement at the slayer's perusal. 

            "Hi," she said and Buffy was taken aback by the woman's raspy yet melodious voice. 

            "Uh, hi. Can-can I help you?" 

            "Well, I don't know. Are you Buffy Summers?" Buffy's body was instantly poised to spring. She bent her knees and turned her body to the side. Her eyes narrowed and her hands balled into fists. 

            The woman noticed the change and laughed while simultaneously lifting her hands up and showing her palms in supplication. 

            "Whoa there," she said a bit nervously, "not here to fight you." 

            "What do you want?" Buffy sneered, feeling an instant (if not irrational) dislike for the woman. 

            "Actually I was looking for Will." 

            "Will? As in Willow?" 

            "No. Will as in William Summers."

            Buffy relaxed minutely and let out a breath she wasn't aware that she had been holding. "This is the Summers but there's no William Summers here." 

            "Hmmm," the woman grunted, "he left this address when he called the club the other day." 

            "Club?" 

            "Yeah. _The_ _Blue Song. It's in San Diego." The brunette caught the look of recognition on Buffy's face and it dawned on her. "You know who I'm talking about, don't you?" Buffy nodded. _

            "Yeah. It's just that he really doesn't go by William around here." 

            "Oh, that's right," Rachel said and hit herself in the head with the palm of her hand. "He told me that he went by the biker name."

            "Spike," Buffy supplied flatly.

            "Yeah, that's it. Never really got used to calling him that." Noticing Buffy's growing discomfort, the woman toned down her excitement and gave the slayer a reserved smile. 

            "Sorry to be so cryptic and inconsiderate," she said and stuck out her hand. "Rachel. Rachel Sanderson. Will's told me so much about you." 

            Buffy took the proffered hand, resisting the urge to squeeze just enough for it to hurt. Instead, she did the politically correct thing. She lied. 

            "Pleased to meet you, too, Rachel." The name came off of Buffy's tongue like a viscous fluid. There was something about this woman that Buffy didn't like and she decided that she knew exactly what it was. 

            As she ushered the brunette into the house, Buffy frowned at the woman's rudeness. She had just taken her sunglasses off when Buffy invited her in and that was the reason the slayer didn't like her. Yes, sir, that was the reason. It had nothing to do with the fact that this was the woman that helped Spike adjust to the guilt that having a soul had brought. Nor was it the fact that he had cried on her shoulders, showing emotions he had never shown Buffy. Nope. The woman was rude. The fact that Spike held her in high esteem had nothing to do with Buffy's disdain with this 'Rachel'. Nope. 

            Nothing at all.  

TBC…

***Oh boy, Ms. Rachel is in town. Buffy doesn't seem to be taking to kindly to Rachel's presence and she has yet to even see the brunette and Spike together. This ought to be interesting. Very interesting. 


	19. Part XVIII

Do What You Have to Do

Part XVIII

The light knock on the door jarred Spike from his notebook. "Come in," he announced and watched as it opened to reveal Dawn. 

"Hey, Nibs," he greeted and closed his book. 

"So," she said dryly and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. "Do you spend all your time shirtless and in jeans?" 

"I'll have you know that this is the first time since I've been here that I've worn jeans," he responded indignantly. 

"Yeah, whatever," she said and rolled her eyes. Spike stood up and closed the distance between them, noticing the slight flush of her cheeks as she glanced at his chest. He smiled seductively, intent on having a little bit of fun. 

"Like what you see, Bit?" 

Dawn's eyes widened as she took in Spike's bare chest--a chest that baby oil had definitely been applied to, quite liberally. She bit her lip as her eyes, totally of their own accord, of course, traced the lines of his abs and the planes of his chest. She then cast a glance at his face and immediately took interest in her sandals when she saw his trademark smirk. 

"You are so evil," she muttered and walked the rest of the way into the room and sat on the bed. 

"Could've told you that, platelet. So," he said and plopped down next to her, "what brings you here? Don't you have a date with Garrett today?" 

"Yeah but I don't think it's him that was at the door. Buffy hasn't called me yet." Spike noticed how she fiddled with her hands and refused to look at him. 

"Okay, Nibs," he said and turned to face her fully, "out with it." 

Dawn stuttered, attempting to deny it but gave it up when Spike glared at her with those all-knowing eyes of his. "Fine." 

"Fine what?"

"I'll spill."

"So there was an ulterior motive to your visit?" 

"You could say that." 

"Why don't you say it instead," he said softly, understanding that she wanted to talk about something serious. 

"I…yesterday morning, when I woke up, I was watching how good you and Buffy fit together. Even asleep, you two gravitate towards each other like it's the most natural thing in the world."

"Always have, 'Bit. Even when we were at each other's throats," he said reverently. Spike had known from the beginning, from the first time he had seen Buffy, that she was the living definition of unique. She had haunted his dreams and every waking thought and Spike had known that she would never leave. 

"The thing is, I know she's with Garrett," Dawn interrupted Spike's thoughts, "or, at least she was."

"What do you mean 'was'?" Spike asked, not wanting to tell her something without talking to Buffy first. 

"The ring. When I looked at her hand it wasn't there anymore and I assumed that she had given it back to him."

"Why would you think that?" 

"Because," she sighed and Spike brushed a strand of hair from her face. She looked at him and warmed inside at the smile he gave her. She couldn't hide the blush that crept up over her cheeks at the gesture. Although he had been a surrogate brother to her, Dawn had never fully gotten over her crush for him and living in the same house for the last few days had, to her utmost surprise, reaffirmed bits and pieces of that crush. Of course, that's all it would be but that was okay. This was her best friend--again--and having him in her life, ready to help her when she needed, was everything she could ask for. 

"Because what, Nibblet?" 

"Because you're back, silly." Spike chuckled at the annoyance in Dawn's voice and stood. He picked up the white tank top still on the bed and slipped it over his head. 

"So, you think that she broke off the engagement because of me?" 

"Spike," Dawn said and stood. He sighed mentally, noticing that she was just as tall as him now. His Nibblet had truly grown up. "Cut the crap. You know that's true so don't deny it." 

"Not denyin' anything, Bit. Just not sharin' is all."

"So you and Buffy did talk?" She half-squealed. 

"You could say that." 

"And?" Dawn clasped her hands in front of her, expectantly. 

" 'Fraid you'll have to ask big sis." She stomped her foot lightly and he chuckled at the pout but stood firm. "Sorry, Nibs, but I'm not gonna be the one to tell you what's Buffy's to tell." 

"But it involves you," she pried, "so you could tell, too." 

Spike grinned. "Reckon I could. But I'm not. Sorry." Dawn's face fell and she refused to look at him. Spike frowned at the sudden change and cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. He was taken aback at the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her lower lip quivered almost imperceptibly. 

"Dawn, what's wrong? And don't say 'nothing'." 

"It's just that, I--I just got you back and I don't want to lose you all over again. If you and Buffy don't…" she started but Spike silenced her with a finger to her lips. 

"Doesn't matter, Sweets." On her confused look, he continued. "Whatever happens between me and your sis has no bearing on me an' you, you hear me?" 

"But--but if you don't have Buffy, then what reason do you have to stay here?" 

"You." 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you." He ushered her back to the bed and they both sat down. Spike kept his hand on her back and rubbed it comfortingly. "Dawn, what I feel for Buffy--what I feel for her is…" 

"Complicated?" 

"Yeah. So bloody complicated. Goin' from enemies to allies back to enemies…then back to allies to almost friends to shag mates muddles things up quite a bit. Even still, I'll never stop wantin' 'er. Never stop lovin' 'er. Not to say I still don't think about stranglin' the stubborn bint sometimes, but still. 

"With you, it's different." 

"It is? And here I thought you once threatened to drink from my brain stem," she said flatly. 

"Well," Spike huffed, "when you don't mind me, I do." The both laughed at that before he continued. "The point is, my love for you's not complicated. 'S so easy to love you Bit. Don't really 'ave to worry bout you threatenin' to stake me or rippin' my 'eart out. Only thing I gotta worry 'bout is disappointin' you. Again," the last was said in a whisper and Dawn slung her arm lovingly around his neck. 

"You won't. Disappoint me. I believe in you." To say Spike beamed at her words was an understatement. When he felt his cheeks about to burst, he ducked his head sheepishly. 

"Means a lot for you to say that, Bit," he said and their gazes locked. "An' that's why I can't go. I will always be here for you. Always. No matter what 'appens between your sis, and me don't ever think that I will leave. 

"I promised that I would take care of you till the end of the world. And though I may have welched on that the past two years, I will tell you right now, that a gentleman always keeps his promises." 

Dawn stared in awe at the man before her. Spike had changed so much over the years although the love and care that he held for her in his eyes had never changed. Even that first time she had met him all those years ago, when he had not known who she was, he had still possessed that overprotective glint in his eye when looking at her. Seeing those cerulean jewels shine before her, Dawn knew that Spike, just like Buffy, would always be there for her. He would be there when she needed him, willing to lay his life on the line for her. The reality of that thought humbled her. He had done it once before, when he had had no soul and she knew without a doubt, if necessary, he would do it again. 

Not trusting her voice, Dawn wrapped her arms around the ex-vampire's neck, conveying her love and devotion to him in an embrace that said so much more than her words ever could. 

*&*

__

Once we get inside, I usher Rachel to the living room where she sits down on the couch. I take a seat on the love seat across from her. One look in her direction and I can tell she's just as uncomfortable as I am. 

"Would you like something to drink?" I ask after several minutes of false starts. 

"No thanks," she says and smiles. I can't help but notice how pretty a smile she has. Her two cheeks are indented with the barest of dimples and she…

Wait a minute—why am I complimenting her? I'm supposed to be the big, bad intimidating slayer. I cross my legs and fold my arms across my chest and slide in place a firm yet not overbearing scowl. 

"So, does Spike know you're coming?" 

"I don't know. I left a message this morning on his cell but he didn't call me back. Of course, I didn't actually say that I was going to be the one to bring his car here. I kind of wanted to surprise him." 

So, she wanted to surprise him, huh? "Well," Spike doesn't like surprises like that; I want to say but catch myself. 

"So," Rachel says and her eyes survey the room, "is Will around?" Was that annoyance I just heard? Cuz if it is, polite Buffy's gonna be gone faster than you can say…

"Hey short girl," Dawn yells as she bounds down the steps. "You really need to keep your slayer stuff…" she stops when she sees Rachel on the couch. Dawn gives me a questioning gaze before the 'nice lady' speaks. 

"Hi, you must be Dawn," Rachel sits up, a little too eagerly for me and I narrow my gaze. "Will's told me so much about you." 

I can see Dawn's mind working from here. She crosses her arms defiantly over her chest. "And you are?" She says and I smile inwardly at Dawn's reservation. 

"Rachel. Rachel Sanderson." She walks over to Dawn and offers her hand. Dawn shakes it warily, though I can see some of the hostility melt from Dawn at the action. I've never seen 'Hostile Dawn' batted down so quickly. This Rachel must be some sort of witch. 

"Rachel brought Spike's car all the way here from San Diego," I tell my sister as I maneuver my way between them. Okay, so I'm being overly cautious and maybe a bit irrational…

"So you're Rachel, huh?" Dawn asks and scrutinizes the brunette with a critical eye. I've been around my sister long enough to know that, from her body language, Dawn is fighting between taking an immediate liking this woman and straight up jealousy. Who can blame her-for the jealousy part, I mean. That's how I feel—_would _feel—if I met my best friend's **new** best friend. I'd feel a bit threatened by this woman just popping up to give him a 'surprise' visit, like she was expecting to take him back just as he was set to be in my life once again. _If _I was Dawn, that is.

"Hello? Earth to Buffy," my sister snaps and I jerk myself back into the now. 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm going to meet Garrett at the Expresso Pump and we're gonna go out from there, okay?" 

"Why doesn't he come pick you up?" 

"He was," Dawn says and stares at her silver toenail polish sheepishly, "but I figured what with all the drama from the past few days that it'd be easier on everyone if, you know, he didn't come around just quite yet." I smile at my sister's foresight and brush a strand of hair from her check. As much as I don't want things to be awkward with Garrett, I know that they will be. Especially with Spike here. 

"Do you need some money?" I hug her and she returns it, a little tighter than usually as if offering her strength. 

"Nope. G-man's treating me. Besides, check out what Spike gave me." She pulls out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and before I comment, Rachel's exclamation interrupts us. 

"Something wrong?" I ask and bite my lip at my condescending tone. Rachel flinches ever so slightly though her smile never wavers. 

"No, I just remembered something, is all." One look at her and I know that she's hiding something but I let it go for now. There will be plenty of time later for analysis. As for now…

"Nice to meet you Rachel," Dawn says and I mentally curse my sister for the lack of hostility in her voice. If I didn't know any better, I'd say her sentiments were genuine. 

"Wonderful to meet you, too, Dawn," Rachel replies and Dawn shakes her hand before giving me a kiss on the cheek and ripping out of the door. 

"Guess she was in a hurry," Rachel quips, staring at the door. 

"Yeah, guess so," I reply sardonically. Rachel cranes her neck and eyes me quizzically and, for a moment she reminds me of that bewildered expression Spike gives me when I do something unexpected. I throw a false smile (I'm really aiming for genuine but I just keep missing the mark--damn) her way before walking back into the living room. I know it's rude not to escort her back in but she can find her way. Of course, the other ruditude just may happen to be that I haven't called Spike down just yet. 

"So, Rachel," I say and keep the levels of hostility in my voice just below radar, "how long are you staying?" 

"Well, it depends." I detect a hint of befuddlement in her voice and for a just a moment I feel bad for my callous behavior. "Depends on what me and Spike do in the next couple of days." Hey, the moment's passed. Whatta ya know? 

"So, just what are you and Spike plannin' to do?" I ask and my hands go instinctively to my hips and my tone gets a little edgier. 

Rachel notices the change and takes a minute step back and I can see her eyes—man, I've never seen such dark eyes before; yup, she must be evil—size me up warily. But other than that, she responds friendly enough. "Well, when I talked to him the other day, I told him that, since he's dead set on relocating here that I made a few calls to some realtors about some lots for opening up Sunnydale's own _Blue Song. _He thought it was a good idea, so I thought that we could survey the lots, check out some of the price tags on them and go from there." 

"So that's all that you're staying for," I say though it comes out more as a question. I bite my lip reflexively and notice Rachel's eyes soften as if she's just figured something out. 

"Buffy, I…" but she doesn't finish as the baritone voice traipsing down the steps interrupts her. 

"So, Slayer, do you fancy doin' anything on this glorious…" he stops in mid sentence when he sees her and his eyes light up like they always do for Dawn. 

"Night?" His voice was the barest of whispers and I can't help but frown at the love evident in his voice.

"Will," Rachel replies and gives him a broad grin. 

"Get your bloody arse over here," he shouts joyously and she flies into his arms. They hug warmly--a hug I don't think is just friendly. Hell, I've never hugged Xander like that before. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were comin', pet?" He asks and I bristle at him using _my _name on her. I roll my eyes but keep quiet as he addresses 'O, she of the Night'. 

"I'm just gonna go and…" I start before Rachel cuts me off. 

"Well, I _did _leave a message on your cell phone this morning. I guess somebody didn't check said messages." 

"You called?" He asks. "What time?" 

"Around seven this morning." 

"You were up at seven?" He asks incredulously and I roll my eyes before sitting down on the arm of the chair. 

"Yes, I was up at seven. Don't make a big deal about it." 

Spike surprises me when he turns to me, smirk firmly in place as he hikes a thumb towards Rachel. "You think the Bit sleeps hard, luv, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Night 'ere could sleep through a bloody apocalypse. And forget about her doin' anything before ten a.m." 

"Hey," she pouts and slaps him in the shoulder. By some miraculous will of God, I bite back the comment about touching Spike. I'm thankful for that since--well, since I really don't want to be seen as a loon. "Standing right her." 

"That you are," Spike says affectionately and touches her hair briefly. A sharp pain enters my chest at the delicate touch but I bat it away. 

Spike ushers Rachel back to the couch and sits next to her. The next fifteen minutes are spent in conversation and Spike is thoughtful enough to include me in most of it. The dialogue jumps from the club in San Diego to establishing another one here to Spike hackling Rachel about how she better not have scratched up his car. 

After awhile, I dismiss myself, muttering about needing to fix my hair. As I leave the room, Spike's gaze is heavy between my shoulder blades and I resist the urge to turn back, paranoid at what I might see. 

I make a beeline for my comb and brush, angrily yanking the kinks from where my hair is tangled. My thoughts turn to the last thirty minutes or so with Spike and Rachel. They looked so comfortable together, as if they were on the same wavelength. I've never had that type of rapport with him; well, not until recently. Before that, only Mom and Dawn had ever been totally at ease around him. But Rachel…

A tired sigh escapes my lips as I think about the two years they had spent together, working together, living together (I think). As much as I've gotten to see a different side of him these past five days, there's no way I can compete with Rachel in that field. I had him by my side--well, in my hair, mostly--for, what? --Four years and I know next to nothing about him. What he likes? What he dislikes. His hopes and dreams. Yeah, I know he was a vampire then but still--still, there was William inside, sharing space with that demon. The William that comforted me when Mom was sick. The William that was always there for Dawn or the William that always made me see that I was trying my best even when I didn't think I was. The William that prevented me from dancing myself to ashes when all I wanted was to end it all. The William that tried so hard to show me compassion, tried to make love to me though I shot him down again and again, only wanting the physical that turned it into nothing but a shag. 

Everything that I had said and done to him for four years rushes back to me. I thought I had forgiven myself for it all but the guilt still lingers. I guess it's because, now, for the first time, I truly acknowledge that I only knew Spike the vampire and never gave him the opportunity to show me the man that was always inside of him, waiting to be let out. Rachel knows that part of him. She knows his fears, his loves and desires. His dreams. I want to learn those things, I really do. But can I ever compete with someone who helped him rise from the ashes? Someone who never took morbid pleasure in beating him down with words and fists? Can I ever make up for that? Do I even know where to begin? 

I growl in frustration at my wayward thoughts and turn my attention back to my finally cooperative locks. When I look into the mirror, however, I see me. The real me. I see the scared little girl that clams up at the very idea of someone loving her with all his heart. I see the brat that lashes out when something doesn't go her way or hides behind snide remarks. Yeah, I know I have changed in these last two years, but how many times have I reverted back to my old ways in the past few months? How could he love someone like this? 

I gasp as the thought enters my head. That had been the question I had asked myself over and over again during our tryst two years ago. How could he love me when I did such horrible things to him? But he did. He does. 

I wipe the errant tear away before it falls and stand up a little straighter as I come to a decision. I can't continue to beat myself up like this. I've changed, I really have. Okay, so I still have a ways to go, but I'm trying here. That's more than I can say for the Buffy from a few years ago. I have to let go of the past and embrace the future that awaits me. Of course, thinking of that brings up issues that I so do not want to deal with right now…

Spike's baritone laughter carries through the house and Confident Buffy falters a bit. How many times have I made him laugh like that? No, not gonna think like that. Not now. 

Satisfied with my hair, I lay on my bed, determined to give myself a few minutes of 'thoughtlessness' before going back downstairs to greet the company. Gone for now are thoughts of Garrett and Spike. So, too, is comparing Rachel and myself. There are no bills, no work and no demons. Just me. Buffy. It's been far too long since I've thought about myself and--dammit! --I deserve the attention. 

A smile creases my lips as I think about myself and what I want and, for the first time in months, I'm free of pressure. And it feels so good. 

Here's to hoping it'll last. 

*&*

About twenty minutes after she had first went to her room; Buffy finally re-emerged from her willful exile. When she walked into the living room, Spike and Rachel were still on the couch, talking amicably. 

"Hey," Rachel said, being the first one to see Buffy. 

"Hey guys, what's going on?" Spike stood and closed the distance between he and Buffy. 

"Is everything all right, luv?" He asked and she smiled at the concern she saw in his eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed some 'me' time. That's all." She squeezed the arm that had, at some point, come to rest on her hip. Spike nodded, though Buffy could tell that he was not all the way convinced. 

Rachel smiled sadly at the exchange between the two blondes. As happy as she was for Will finally coming home, a part of her was jealous of the tangible love that radiated from him for the petite blonde. To be honest, when she had first walked in, Rachel had to corral her longstanding anger with Buffy for treating Will so badly a few years ago. But she hadn't and it wasn't just because Rachel knew that Will was also to blame but the fact that she saw that this wasn't the same Buffy that Will had gushed and ranted about. Despite never meeting her before, one look into those hazel eyes and Rachel knew Buffy had done a lot of maturing in the past two years. 

"So," Buffy said and took her familiar seat in the chair. "What are you guys doing today?" 

"Well," Rachel said, "I don't know about Will here but I was going to check out some of the potential plots to build another _Blue Song._"

"And I'm going, too," Spike affirmed. 

"What? You don't trust me?" Rachel asked in a mock pout. 

"Not that, pet, but I'd like to talk to those real estate wankers myself."

"The intimidation factor," Buffy and Rachel said simultaneously. They traded sheepish grins and Buffy felt a bit of the animosity she had from the woman slip away from that simple gesture. 

"Now don't you chits try and gang up on me now. I've a mind to turn you both over my knee." Rachel chuckled when she saw Buffy blush furiously. 

"I'm thinking that'd be more a reward for you and less a punishment for us," the brunette deadpanned. 

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "As a matter of fact…" she caught herself before finishing but by the gleam in Spike's eye, Buffy knew he remembered. 

"Okay," Rachel interrupted, drawing Spike's attention from a thoroughly embarrassed Buffy, "then it's settled. I get to meet with the realtors and you, Will—well, you do whatever it is you do best. _Besides _annoying poor Buffy here. Or me for that matter." She winked at the slayer and they shared another laugh at the ex-vampire's expense. 

"Down boy," Rachel teased and took off her jacket. Buffy couldn't help but scrutinize the woman's every movement and was surprised when she saw the woman underneath. 

She had a tight red shirt that clung to breasts that, for all intents and purposes, quite spectacular. They were substantially larger than Buffy's (though that wasn't saying much) but, at the same time, not mammoth. The lines of Rachel's sports bra were visible through the cotton fabric of the shirt. Buffy noticed a slight thickness to the other woman's waist that bunched as she sat but would taper considerably when Rachel stood. 

How many times since she had seen Rachel had Buffy thought the other woman would be a model of perfection? Though she was beautiful (very beautiful, Buffy added grudgingly) she was also a normal woman. She did not have the 'perfect body' Buffy imagined that Rachel would have and the slayer knew that the brunette probably shared some of the same insecurities that the petite blonde did. Again, a sliver of Buffy's dislike for Rachel dissipated. 

That being said, she was still sitting a tad too close to Spike for Buffy's tastes. 

"Buffy?" Spike said and the blonde ripped her guilty eyes away from their perusal of Rachel's body. 

"Yeah? What did you say?" _God, if he saw me eying Rachel, he may think…_

"I was asking if you wanted to come by and check out some of the flats I'm gonna look at…"

"Well…" Buffy started. 

"We're gonna meet for lunch at around three," Rachel supplied. 

"Count me in," the slayer finished a bit too enthusiastically. 

"Cool beans," Rachel remarked and stood up. Buffy avoided staring at the woman and, instead trained her eyes on the platinum blonde across from her. _Did he just check out her boobs? _The slayer asked herself incredulously. _He just checked out her boobs! _

"Well, I'm gonna get to the hotel and get cleaned up for the meeting," Rachel informed. 

"What time did you schedule it?" 

"The first one's in about, oh, an hour. The second one's at one. There are a few pending for later on in the week, Will, but I wanted to get your assessment on these first two before we moved forward."

_Moved forward? _Buffy thought though her tongue remained still. 

"All right, pet. If you need anything, just give me a ring on my cell."

"You know me…" Rachel trailed off, smirking. 

"Bloody right I do. You askin' fer help's bout as likely as the sun shinin' at midnight." His eyes drifted to Buffy. "Wonder where I've noticed that before." 

"I'll have you know," Buffy replied snidely, "that in Alaska the sun does shine at midnight. Well, six months out of the year. Maybe." 

"So you're a stubborn girl, too?" Rachel asked and Buffy raised her chin defiantly. "Well," she said and punched Spike in the chest, "we stubborn girls must unite." 

"You all will be the death of me yet," Spike groaned and was promptly smacked in the head by Buffy. 

"And don't you forget it, blondie." She turned to Rachel and stuck her hand out. "It was good meeting you, Rachel and I guess we'll see you later." This time, when they shook, Buffy did apply a tiny bit of pressure that Rachel withstood admirably. _Just because I don't hate her doesn't mean I have to like her. _

"The feeling's mutual, Buffy." Rachel said and dropped her hand after the shake. She put one arm around Spike's neck and kissed him on the cheek. Buffy noticed said cheeks flame and she knew the woman had whispered something to him. _Did anybody ever tell you it's rude to whisper in front of someone? _Buffy thought and her eyes burned into the other woman's skull. She dropped her gaze just in time as Rachel offered her another smile before Spike led her out the door. 

"So," Spike said when he came back into the living room. "What did you think?" Buffy glanced up from the magazine she was reading (and was _very _interested in, by the way) and shrugged. 

"She's okay, I guess." 

Spike scowled at his slayer's noncommittal reply until he noticed her right leg bouncing where it was crossed over the left. Coupled with several of the looks he had seen Buffy give Rachel and the uppity tone she had had in her voice on more than one occasion gave it all away. 

__

Buffy was jealous. No, scratch that. She was the embodiment of jealousy and envy and, if he didn't know any better, he would have said she was just a bit greener around the edges. 

_Maybe she wants me after all, _he thought hopefully. A part of his mind cautioned him from thinking too far ahead but he ignored it, content to feel confident at least for now. 

Smirk firmly in place, he strode over to Buffy with his patented cockiness and knelt in front of her. His eyes traced a single bead of sweat that cascaded down the side of her face and he resisted the urge to stop its progress with the swipe of his tongue. 

"Well, luv, guess I'll finish getting' dressed." He eyed her saucily and chuckled as the familiar burn tinted her cheeks. Her leg stopped bouncing and it appeared that she pulled her legs even closer together. Spike refrained from any type of touch and he stood up when Buffy finally acknowledged that he should get dressed with a wave of her hand. 

He sauntered out of the room, very aware of Buffy's eyes on him but he did not turn around. If anything, he put a little more strut into his step before disappearing from her view. 

As he climbed the steps, Spike did remind himself not to push things. He wanted Buffy as much now as he ever had but he knew she had a big decision to make. As much as it pained him, she would also have to spend some more time with Garrett and less time with him. 

_The next couple weeks are gonna be rough, old boy, _he told himself as he walked into the guestroom. 

_No matter what 'appens, remember to stay the course. _Spike knew that, even if Buffy didn't choose him, he couldn't leave her. Although she could possibly leave Sunnydale if her and Garrett were married, there was no way Spike was going to leave again. He had done it once and that would be the last time he would ever abandon her. Not in his mind, his body, or his toddler-aged soul. 

Spike chuckled, his thoughts bittersweet. He had once told her that he was drowning in her. That still held true and Spike knew that there were only two ways to go; it would either consume him, take his will if he was denied or she would accept him and throw him a raft to stay afloat in his love for her. Either way, his entire being would always be surrounded by her presence. It was something he felt in his bones and, though it sounded romantic, such consumption was dangerous as well. The night in the bathroom was a testament to that. 

No, Buffy's love would consume him—that was something he could never help, just like the chip. But he would temper it. He owed it to her not to feel overwhelmed by what he felt for her but more than that, he owed it to himself. 

TBC

***Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news (and bad for some) is that the ride is almost over. I know the ending already as well as how I'm gonna get there. I have maybe 4-6 chapters left to write, including an epilogue that will--well, you'll see. 

***Now, the bad news is that I'm going to take a break to write a few chapters of _Severed Ties _before hitting the stretch run for 'Do'. Not only do I not want to lose my flow with _ST _but I also want to clear up the final chapters in 'Do' to make sure the ideas flow correctly. So it may be 10-14 days before a new chapter of 'Do' but, in that time _ST _should be updated 3 times at the least. 

***Review, my pretties. Review. 


	20. Part XIX

Do What You Have to Do

Part XIX 

_Buffy collapsed on top of her lover, spent from her third orgasm in forty minutes. Her head rested between the crook of his neck and her breasts were crushed to his chest, his heart pounding against his ribcage joining hers in the staccato beat that announced a body well satiated. _

"Wow," he said and Buffy smiled into his skin. During the countless times they had made love—no, shagged—he had never lacked the words to quantify their carnal exploits. To see him, or rather, hear him so speechless rekindled the ebbing flame of her desire. 

"'Wow'?" She mocked and ground her hips against him. He moaned and she felt his flaccid cock harden inside her. "Your first sexual experience as a human and you make me come three times in less than an hour and all you can come up with is 'wow'?" She punctuated the last word with a vicious pop of her hips forward and Spike cried out her name. 

"Now," she said, a Cheshire cat grin etched across her swollen lips and rotated her hips clockwise on top of him, "that's more like it." 

She lost track of time as she rode him, enjoying the sweat that coated their flesh. The mutual sweat shared between lovers during sex had been something she had loathed with Riley and though it had not been a distraction with Garrett, the slickness of she and Spike's bodies as they perspired turned the slayer on to no end. Just the thought of it brought her to her fourth orgasm of the night. 

"God, Buffy," Spike moaned, "I love you so much." The muscles in her thighs tightened at the endearment and she forced herself to look into his eyes. The sight of the love that stared back at her was almost too much and she nearly lost it when he smiled. 

Spike pumped furiously into her, the sound of skin smacking together accompanying the various grunts and groans of the couple like some erotic symphony. He watched in glee as her breasts bounced ever so slightly with each of his thrusts. He pulled her down and suckled one hard nipple, ripping a moan from her throat and her ministrations became more frantic, intent on her fifth release of the night. 

Buffy had never felt so aroused in her life and all she wanted now was Spike's hot seed to fill her insides. She was so close and, by the way he tightened within her, Spike was not too far behind. Still, it wasn't enough; she wanted to come now. 

As if hearing her thoughts, Spike tore his mouth away from her breasts just long enough to whisper "Mine" in her ear before clamping down on her neck with blunt teeth. 

Buffy screamed as her walls closed in on his now pulsing member. Her nails dug into his shoulder and she vaguely heard the sound of her name float from his lips as utter and complete bliss snaked its way through her limbs before she exploded in a burst of emotion, love and arousal as she repeated his name over and over…

"Buffy," a voice called to her. She recited Spike's name again and was greeted by a snicker before a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She moaned and turned to her side, forcing her non-cooperating eyes open. 

The vision before her was familiar though, in her sleepy haze, she couldn't quite make it out. Not until the figure put its hands on its hips and cocked its head to the side did Buffy realize who it was. 

"D-Dawn!" She screeched and shot up in bed, mortified. 

The youngest Summers smirked at the disheveled blonde. "In the flesh," she said wryly before adding, "of course, by what you were saying, I'm probably not the person that you want to see in that condition, now is it?" 

The slayer groaned in embarrassment, the reddish hue of her cheeks glowing despite the sun spilling into her room. She was about to swing her legs out of the bed but thought better of it when the evidence of her orgasmic dream made itself known as she shifted her thighs. 

"What do you want, Dawn?" She barked though, even to her own ears, it came out more as a guilty squeak. 

"Oh nothing," the teen said through her grin. "Just telling you that I was probably gonna spend the day, and quite possibly night, with Janice and Kit. And…"

"Those two are getting along?" 

"They have been since graduation," Dawn supplied, annoyed at the interruption. "And you know that, for the past two weeks we've been hanging out."

"Oh." 

"Yeah, 'oh'. Anyway, I just came in here to tell you that your dreaming of Spike lust has made you late." Dawn gave her sister and much too cheery smile before bouncing out the room. 

Buffy blinked in confusion before she glanced at the clock. 

7:53. 

"Damn," she cursed before throwing the covers off of her. She was supposed to be at work at eight, a goal that was definitely not going to be met. Grabbing her cell phone, Buffy dialed the number to work but the beep in her ear caused her to groan in frustration. Evidently, she forgot to charge the phone. 

"This is just the perfect little start to a beautiful Monday morning." 

*&*

"So, what do you think, pet?" I ask Rachel. For the past three weeks, we've scoured Sunnydale with two goals in mind. One, to find the right spot to set up another _Blue Song, _something this hell city needs and, two, to find me a flat so I can get out of the soddin' extended stay motel I've been cramped up in. 

Rachel walks around the living room with a pensive scowl, her high heel boots clicking against the hardwood floor. The black leather skirt crackles with each step she takes, her purple blouse accenting her more than adequate--assets. Bloody 'ell, what would Buffy think if she knew what was goin' on in my head? She'd throttle me nice and proper, I fancy. 

"What's wrong, Will?" Rachel asks and walks over to me. 

"Don't quite know what you mean, 'Night." When in doubt, lie. 'S always been my motto. 

"Oh, so that death sigh you just exhaled was nothing, huh?" She asks sardonically and I throw a patented 'Spike scowl' her way--to which she only laughs at. 

"Out with it, old man." 

"Old man? I'll have you know that William S. Summers, as it has on my license is twenty-eight years of age. Hardly old." 

"Yeah, and you and I both know the real deal." She tucks her bang behind her ear and fixes me with that determined gaze of hers that only Buffy can top. "Oh, by the way, your attempts at distraction won't work. You should know that by now." 

I smirk at that and lean against the wood-lined walls of the flat and cross my arms. My eyelids flutter closed and I'm greeted with highlights of the past three weeks. 

Buffy and I have been taking things slowly. We've been out five or six times since I vacated casa de Summers, each date getting to know a little bit more about each other. Last night had been our latest date. We walked around downtown Sunnydale for hours, talking about the past, present and possible future. At the end of the night, we kissed. It was the first one since that night in the cemetery. Took everything I had to walk away without shovin' her against the door and shaggin' her crazy.

So the past few weeks have passed with me more or less in Rachel's company twenty four/seven. We've gotten a chance to talk about a lot of things, including Buffy and me. Rachel's helped me get a perspective, if you will, on things. The first time Buffy said she was goin' out with Garrett, I had an attack of William the Bloody and Rachel sat there, bemused, as I raved about how I was gonna rip his entrails out if he touched her. Course, being the realist that she is, Night told me, in no uncertain terms that, if anybody had a right to be angry it was Garrett. After a few minutes exposition from her, I shut down, knowing that she was right.

"I don't know, Night," I tell her truthfully. The thing is, so much is bothering me, I don't have a clue as where to start and I tell her this. 

"Why don't you start with the central problem."

"Okay, Doctor," I reply and slide to the floor. "What do you wager my 'central problem' is?"

"Oh, that's easy," she says and sits down in front of me, "starts with a 'B', ends in a 'Y'." 

So we talk and it's just like the handful of conversations we've shared the past few weeks. After about ten minutes, I realize that bein' away from my slayer's eatin' away at me more than I admitted to myself. Two years 'ave changed me quite a bit but, at times, I turn into the insecure William with the Bloody awful poet. 

"Will, there is really nothing you can do, you know that, right? Whatever happens is for Buffy to decide. And knowing her, it may take some time for her to make up her mind. If she ever does." Rachel whispers the last part bitterly and I frown at the implications. I know she still loves me and I sometimes catch 'er lookin' at me the same way I look at Buffy. Sometimes I wish that I could be what she deserves but my 'eart's all Buffy's and we both know it. Funny, if the situation were reversed, I wouldn't care. Hell, I knew Buffy didn't love me back when we shagged like demons in heat, no matter how much I tried to convince myself. Every chance she gave me to touch her body was another chance for me to convince her that I was someone she could love. Call it weakness, or need to be loved, whatever it was, I took the scraps she gave me. Rachel wouldn't do that, hell, she didn't on the few occasions we did have a snog-fest goin'. She'd always stop before it went too far and, if it'd been up to me, too far it'd 'ave went. God, I wanted 'er, still do in a way. Guess it's because I know she loves me with a clean slate. She hasn't seen what I'm capable of. She hasn't lived through me tryin' to kill 'er. Makes a bloody big difference. Course the other reason is that, despite everything I did tell 'er, she's never once looked at me in disgust. Never 'ad to worry that I was beneath 'er. Sometimes, even now, I think how much easier it'd be for me if I could love Rachel like I love Buffy. 

'Course, bein love's bitch like I am puts a damper on that whole idea. 

"It ain't gonna be easy, Will," Rachel says, putting an arm around me. I jump at her proximity, unaware that she had moved closer to me. "If you think that's the case, well, then you might as well give up now. But if you think there's a chance that she does love you, does want to be with you—if you think it's worth it, then you will hang in there." She cups my face with one hand and kisses me on the corner of my mouth. I see the tears brimming in her cheeks but before I can say anything, she gets to her feet and dusts off her skirt. 

"I like it," she says and her eyes survey the expanse of the flat. "What with a few days shopping, this place'll be quite posh." She smiles down at me and I return it before getting to my feet. 

"You know, I think you're right." We walk through the rest of the flat, taking mental notes here and there. It's a two bedroom flat, one master, one guest, and both have their own baths. At the back, adjacent to the master bedroom is a right decent study. 

"This would be a perfect library or your very own Fortress of Solitude, you know, for writing." She throws it out so casually that I have a mind to ask her to repeat it before it rings in my mind. 

We finally finish the tour and end up in the kitchen, leaning next to one another against the island, staring out the wall-sized window of the living room. I smile as the sun bathes everything within reach in what had once been instant death for me. The whole place caters to the sun, the light shining in from all angles and, the more I think about it, the more I believe that, subconsciously, I wanted it that way. I never really sussed out how much not being able to stand in the light had bothered me during my exile into night. But for the last two years, I bath in the light every chance I get. Nothing like making up for lost time. 

"I think she'll like it," Rachel's voice cuts through my remembrance and I look at her in question. 

"Buffy," she reiterates, "I think she'll like it." I can only smile at her observation. She's right, Buffy will like this. Sun in every room, workout room, rather nice sized kitchen (though I'm still rather wary of her cookin') and all the other amenities of a cozy lil' home away from home. "I know I do," she whispers and I flinch at the longing in 'er voice. I shake my head bitterly before walking out the kitchen and into the main room. I want to scream at the world, tear the 'ead off anyone and anything right about now. As much as I want Buffy, as much as I want to make 'er 'appy, it tears at my 'eart that Rachel's in so much pain. 

I stare out at the window, blind to the beauty of nature. Rachel's arms wrap around my waist and her breasts are crushed to my back, her cheek resting on my spine. After a few seconds of feeling her chest rise and fall against me, I match her breathing like I had done those first few weeks when she would calm me during the worst of my nightmares. 

"Will, don't" she whispers as the first tear falls down my cheek. 

"Can't 'elp it, pet. 'S just so bloody hard." There is nothing for several minutes save for the synchronous workings of our lungs. Finally, I whisper, "Why does it 'ave to be so painful?" 

"Why does what have to be so painful, sweetie?" 

"Love." Her body tenses against mine ever so slightly and I can almost hear her mind tossin' the question back and forth. 

"It's not love that's painful, William," she replies softly, "but the long road in finding it, that's the bitch." I chuckle softly at that but sober immediately. 

"So what is this I feel, if it's not love?" I ask and can't keep the sardonic tone from my words. 

"It is love, you idiot," she replies and pinches my sides. "But it's not your love that's making you hurt here." Her left hand moves up my body and pats my chest. "It's that shoddily constructed road that's the problem. More ditches and bumps than a country back road. You're still on that road, Will, searching for that special place two people find when they are both crazy in love with each other."

"So I'm still surfin' that pesky rainbow, huh? Waitin' to get to that soddin' pot o' gold?" 

"Something like that."

"Oh, that's just peachy, innit?" My words are sour and Rachel flinches against me. She sighs deeply before grapping me by my shoulders and turning me around. I'm shocked when I look at her and see the tears cascading down her cheeks. 

"No, Will, it's not peachy," she says, her voice eerily calm. "It's hard, it's disgusting and it's unfair. There will be times when you just want to quit, just scream to the world, sod it all and go on your merry way. Sometimes you'll look at that special person and wish that you'd never met them, or you'll damn them for making you feel that way. At times you'll be bitter, angry and resentful towards them, especially if they don't return your sentiments or aren't as quick on the uptake." 

I shiver at her words and the truth that they represent. Everything she's said, I've felt towards Buffy. How many times had I been this close to leaving for good? How many times had my emotions carried my thoughts away from me and allowed my demon to whisper in my ear—"she doesn't love you, she never will. Not like this. Take her, while she's sleep. Make her like us and then she will be by our side for eternity." More often than I'd like to admit, that's for bloody sure. So many times I wanted to belittle her, bring her down to my level, hurt her with my words, but I didn't. I didn't because I loved her. I loved her then, when she was a right bitch to me, using me then discarding me. And I love her now, the new Buffy, the one that's still breaking through that shell of hers that's been in place for so long. 

I open my mouth to speak but the glare of the light across Rachel's irises stops me. It doesn't take long for me to recognize the pain behind those beautiful eyes—it's been my constant companion my whole bloody existence, it seems. It's everything she's been telling me these past few minutes. I turn away, unable to see the pain in her eyes—pain that I've caused. 

"You've never asked me to love you, Will," she says and I look up at her. It's eerie how she sometimes seems to read my mind but I should be used to it by now. But I'm not. Two years of livin' with her and she still surprises me. 

"Rachel," I start but she shushes me with a finger to my lips before drawing me down into a kiss. The love and frustration that rises from her lips and tongue as it enters my mouth knocks me breathless. Her hunger and passion match my own as I return the kiss and, despite the burgeoning lust that builds with each thrust of tongue and nip of teeth, our hands remain passive against the other's waist. 

We break apart simultaneously after several minutes, both gasping for air and we lean our foreheads together. My mind is racing with anticipation of the possibilities as well as guilt. Not only do I feel like I've cheated on Buffy but that this kiss will somehow ruin what Rachel and I have built. The thought of that sours the taste in my mouth but not enough to overpower the jasmine flavor of her lips. 

"I love you, Will," she says after drawing a deep breath. "I think I've always have, from the first time I saw you outside my apartment. And I will always love you." 

"Rach…" 

"No. Let me say this. Like I said, I will always love you…but I—but I know that our paths aren't going in the same direction and I accept that. I know that someday I will find someone else whose heart won't already be taken and I will take that same jumbled road with him until we get to our special place. But I will never forget you and I will always be here for you. And now that you've got your place, it's no reason for me to stay. Will, don't try to talk me out of it, you know it's the best thing." 

"Do I?" 

"I've held out when you've wanted to do more than just kiss for too long. What happens if Buffy does something that hurts you and I'm here with you, comforting you? How long until my resolve breaks and we do something that we can't take back? As much as I do want that, it would break my heart even more afterwards because I know that you would look at me with regret for doing it. I'm strong, Will, but I don't know if I could handle that.

"I know it sounds like I'm running away but I need time away from you. Besides, you know I've been away from _the Blue Song _for way too long. Two trips there in three weeks isn't enough and as good as Damon is and as much as I do trust him, he can't run it like you can." 

"Or you," I whisper. 

"Or me," she concedes with a smile. "The point is, Will, is that you have Buffy here for you and, during those times of turmoil with you guys, Willow and Dawn will be there for you." 

"But it's not the same," I pout and she laughs. The sound of her laughter breaks the somber mood and we gaze at each other, so much left unsaid between us, yet we've never needed words. We've always clicked. 

"Okay, ya big baby. But you know I have to go." 

"Doesn't mean I 'ave to like it." 

"I know. It will be hard, on us both, especially since we've spent pretty much every hour of everyday together for the past two years. It's gonna take some time getting used to."

"But…" I stutter. "But what if Buffy doesn't want me? What if our paths aren't meant to cross and I end up goin' at it alone?" 

"Will, you'll never be alone so long as I'm around. And besides, your paths do cross." She kisses me on the cheek and walks toward the door. I stand there, feet immobile as my mind races with so many ifs and buts. There is so much I want to say to her while we have this time alone but the only thing I can think of is…

"How do you know?" She stops at the door and turns towards me. Cocking her head to the side, she fixes me with a lopsided grin. 

"Call it a woman's intuition. Trust me, Will, you and Buffy will find your special place. And it will be better than anything you've ever dreamed of." She gestures to the door before walking out and my trance is broken. Following her out and locking the door behind me, I wonder if she is right—that Buffy and I will find that special place of ours. 

*&*

Buffy flopped in the chair, her hair strewn about and her feet free from her heels. She slouched down as far as humanly possible before groaning loudly to the empty house. She had decided that tonight was going to be a night of Buffy-pampering, as she had nothing else to do. Everyone else had plans. Dawn was with Janice and Kit, Willow was going out with Kennedy again, and both Xander and Anya were out of town, tending to matters of their respective jobs. 

"Well, I could call Giles," she said aloud and regretted it as the pang she thought had dissipated from his departure flared up again.

Giles had returned to England the week after Dawn's graduation. Even after all this time it still hurt every time she watched him get on the plane. They had had a heartfelt talk about their relationship, Buffy telling the older man in no uncertain terms that she saw him in every was as being her father. He had blushed at that and declared his own feelings for his slayer--the daughter every man could only hope to have. She had cried at that and hugged him tightly, not wanting him to go. He had promised to visit sometime soon and that, when he did visit, he quite possibly could have a surprise for her. The latter had been the only thing that had staved her tears. 

Buffy wiped at her eyes angrily, upset with herself for allowing Giles's departure more than two weeks ago continue to affect her. Yeah, she missed him and all but come on, she was twenty-three years old and it's not like he hadn't left before. 

__

It's not Giles that you're upset about is it? A much too smug voice reminded her. _Could it be that you're upset that a certain British blonde isn't here with you instead of with that other woman? _The voice taunted and Buffy growled as she made her way to the kitchen, stopping in from of the hallway mirror. 

"I am not upset about Spike not being here," she said aloud. "Nope, nope, nope. Just some leftover emotion from Giles leaving again, right?" The last part was a desperate plea to the face that stared back at her. But the truth was written in the hazel eyes of her reflection. 

__

It's all about him, the voice said, _admit it and then maybe you can get closure in this mucked up love life of yours. _And wasn't that the truth? Her love life had always been screwed up and now was no better. Hell, now was much worse than it had ever been before. 

Three weeks and she had yet to make a decision. She had spent several lunches with Garrett after he had come back from vacation. They had gotten along rather well and she was thankful for that. She was still tense around him at times, the guilt about breaking it off with him had failed to lessen and she wondered if it ever would. 

And then there was Spike. She had gone out with him a handful of times as well. Just as with Garrett, she and Spike had spent time together getting to know one another and it had been going quite well. There was no pressure from him to further things, they had actually started to be friends, something she had never gave him the opportunity to be in the past and it was something that she now regretted more than anything. 

Shaking her head, Buffy walked into the kitchen and scrounged the cabinets for something to eat. It would have been simple for her to order out but being alone was the perfect time to do some experimentation of the culinary variety. She put her fingers to her mouth, pondering what to do when the slight puff of her lips revived memories of the night before. 

__

"I had a great time," she said, her back to the door. 

"Me, too, luv," Spike replied, his hands thrust into his pockets as he glanced at her sheepishly from under his thick eyelashes. They stayed there for several moments, the silence tangible between them. If he were still a vampire, Spike would have clearly heard Buffy's pounding heart, but as it was, the thrumming of his own heart was too loud for him to discern anything. 

Unsure of what to do, Buffy licked her lips nervously and she saw Spike's gaze follow the pink slip of her tongue. She moaned reflexively and the former vampire's eyes widened, surprise and desire clear in the blue haze of his irises. 

"Guess I should push off, then," he said hoarsely. 

"Yeah, I have to get up for work tomorrow," Buffy supplied and unconsciously took a step towards Spike and he matched her advance. 

"Well, then, I'll talk to you soon, Buffy," he whispered, taking another step towards her. 

"Yeah, soon," she murmured as her head leaned forward of its own accord. He responded accordingly, leaning forward as well and, before they knew what was happening, their lips were locked in a heated struggle for passion. 

Buffy snapped out of the memory, her skin flush from the thought of Spike's lips on her. 

"Lips of Spike," she muttered and laughed. She remembered the first time they had kissed, under the influence of Willow's spell. She had been so disgusted at kissing her mortal enemy that, for several days afterwards, she continued to remind him of how horrible it was. Of course, she would never tell him that, at night, she would dream that the spell had never ended and that they had gotten married. Not only that but the things he did to her before and after they were married were…

"Not gonna think about that," she reprimanded herself and purposely busied herself with pulling out more cooking supplies. She couldn't think about that, how good it felt to be in Spike's arms, how right. She didn't want to let any of that cloud her judgment being that the decision was already difficult enough. 

"Yep, no physical influences are needed," she said as she pulled the pans out from under the sink. _I need to block out all that orgasmy stuff, make my decision based on, on other things, _she thought. _That's what I'll use this night for, clear my head, think about what feels right for me and go from there. No Garrett or Spike to influence my decision. It'll be great. _

Before another thought flashed in her mind, the buzz of the doorbell drew her attention away. 

"Who could that be?" she asked and walked to the front door. Her hand wrapped around the handle and before she opened it, she leaned her forehead against it. "Please don't let it be Garrett or Spike. Please don't let it be Garrett or Spike," she beseeched the door gods before opening it. 

When she saw who the visitor was, Buffy staggered back in surprise. _Well, it's not Garrett or Spike, _she thought dryly. 

"Hey Buffy," Rachel said and the slayer picked up a hint of--well, of what, she didn't know--in the other woman's voice. 

"Hey Rachel," Buffy said a bit too eagerly. "Come on in." She moved to the side to allow the brunette entrance. The click of Rachel's heels sounded through the foyer and Buffy closed the door, turning to the woman. 

"Sorry, I didn't call or anything but I, well I'm sorry." 

"Oh, it's okay. Not like I was doing anything anyway. Well, except for cooking dinner." 

"Oh, cool. So, is Dawn here?" 

"Nope, just me, myself and I. Was going to do some experimentation while I have the chance. You know how it is, test the stuff yourself so if it's horrible no one will ever have to know."

"Yeah," Rachel replied and Buffy was warmed by the smile the other woman gave her. "So, you want a test subject?" 

Buffy gave the woman a wary look. "Are you sure about that? Cuz, I'm sure Spike or Dawn have told you of my cooking expertise-lessness. I mean, I've gotten much better in the last few years but--well, to be honest, that's not saying much."

"It's okay, Buffy," Rachel laughed. "It's not like I have the title of chef supreme, either."

"Well, just so you know, everything stays between us," the slayer whispered conspiratorially. 

"Deal," Rachel replied in the same hushed tone. 

"Well, then, follow me," Buffy replied and led her guest into the kitchen. She ignored the tightening in her gut at the woman's presence, attributing it to the surprise of having her solitude interrupted. But as much as she lied to herself about it, her inner Buffy had no trouble identifying the underlying jealousy still present or the tingling in the back of her neck telling her that, after tonight, things would be much clearer. 

****

A/N: Next chapter is mainly Buffy and Rachel. And no, not like that, you sick twisted freaks! LOL. Next update February 7th or 8th, 2003. The end is almost here. 


	21. Part XX

Do What You Have to Do

__

Part XX

"Buffy, no!" Rachel shrieked, waving her arms in front of her as she watched the slayer, weapon in hand, speed towards her, the blonde's eyes alit in determination. She tried to stand her ground but the fierce set of Buffy's lip had the brunette ducking for cover as Buffy swung the item downward. 

Both women screamed when the small flame on the stove rose up, exploding into a column of fire before seconds later a white cloud engulfed it, swallowing it whole. 

The two women traded looks with one another and the blonde shrugged sheepishly at the annoyed glare from the brunette holding the extinguisher. The silence stretched between them before Buffy broke it with a simple "Oops." 

" 'Oops'?" Rachel repeated incredulously. "You try to flambé me and the best you can come up with is 'oops'? Didn't your mom ever teach you _not _to throw water on a grease fire?" 

Buffy rolled her eyes, perturbed at being treated like a child in her own home. 

"God, _Night," _Buffy said, "would you give it a rest. Talk about Drama Queen." She punctuated that by tossing the pan into the sink

" 'Drama Queen'?" The other woman asked in disbelief. 

"What? Is this 'repeat what Buffy says' day or something?" She muttered while cleaning up what was left of the chicken and pan. 

"Well, maybe it is. Or maybe I am awed at you referring to me as a D.Q."

"Dairy Queen?" 

"You know what I mean, Ms. Kettle." Buffy whirled around and glared at Rachel, who mirrored the slayer, hands on hips style. They stood there, locked in a stare down, before the brunette's lips started to quirk up. Buffy scowled at the woman, making Rachel's façade crack even more until she finally gave it up and bent over laughing. 

"You are too funny, Summers," she said through tears, her tone carrying a hint of amused sarcasm. 

"That's me, The Quippiest Slayer who ever quippy quipped a quip." That stopped Rachel's laughter cold. 

"What the bloody hell did you just say?" 

"I said, that's me, funny girl," Buffy replied with a straight face. This time, both women erupted into laughter simultaneously before directing their attention back to the food on the island. 

"Well," Buffy said after a moment of consideration, "at least we have salad." 

"And potatoes." 

"And greens simmering." 

"Now all we need is the meat portion of dinner and we'll be fine."

"Well," the slayer said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the charred dish, "I think the chicken is deep-sixed." 

"Too true, Summers, too true." Buffy smiled and continued chopping the potatoes. The past two weeks had been an eye opener for her, not just about her own feelings about…things, but her opinion of Rachel as well. 

Upon first sight Buffy had taken an instant dislike to the other woman, with her fancy silk sweats and too cool sunglasses. She had spent that first conversation trying to intimidate the brunette, a tactic that had worked to some extent. She had also been suspicious of the woman as well, especially when Dawn had produced a crisp hundred procured from Spike. It wasn't until later that Buffy discovered the money had reminded Rachel of the gift Spike had told her to get for Dawn; a platinum cross and chain along with a matching tennis bracelet. That had shut her slayer mouth and induced a disturbing sense of guilty vibes through her. 

Guilt notwithstanding, however, Buffy had been determined not to like Rachel.

_Two weeks sure do change things, _Buffy thought ruefully. Though they hadn't spent that much time together, Buffy had found in the few times they had gotten together--quite by accident, thank you very much--that Rachel was not the bitch Buffy had hoped her to be. 

In truth, Buffy had found many similarities between herself and Rachel. Not only was the other woman smart and insightful, she was also sarcastic and witty and, unlike Buffy, Rachel didn't take many things personally. So, as reluctant as the slayer was to admit it, they had gotten along very well. 

Rachel smiled slightly when she felt Buffy's eyes on her. She knew what the slayer was thinking because, well, her mind was similarly occupied. After all Spike had told her about his relationship with Buffy, the brunette had wanted nothing more than to pummel the slayer, despite 1) knowing everything wasn't Buffy's fault and 2) having a fairly good insight on the outcome of a fight between the two of the if it came to that. So, when they had first sat down in the living room, a little over two weeks ago, seeing each other for the first time, Rachel had been surprised that the animosity she had felt towards Buffy was obliterated with one look in those hazel eyes. There was so much love and loss detailed in Buffy's eyes that the other woman had to quell the urge to hug the blonde woman tightly. 

_Will would've gotten a kick out of that, _Rachel mused as she cut up some tomatoes for the salad. No, this trip to Sunnydale had been better than she thought. She had found, in the two weeks that she had been here that she shared interests with all of the 'Scoobies', as they called themselves. She and Willow both were interested in magic and computers and she and Xander had the same love of humor. Dawn and Buffy shared Rachel's love of shopping as well as somewhat volatile mood swings, though Rachel had been happy that they Scoobies had yet to catch her on a bad day. 

But the strangest thing was how well she liked Buffy. The blonde had a spunk, a pizzazz about her that Rachel rarely saw in others. Though she was confident and strong, compliment Buffy on something and she would smile sweetly, her cheeks flushing modestly. Yeah, she was headstrong and stubborn and liked a good verbal sparring as much as fisticuffs but, at the same time, she was caring, considerate and would die—_had _died—for her friends. Buffy Summers was someone Rachel was glad to have met. 

Now that wasn't to say that they would be best friends or anything like that—of course, being in love with the same guy may have been an obstacle—but, yeah, that was pretty much the only issue between them. Despite Buffy's closed lips on the subject, Rachel knew that the slayer was in love with Will. Head over heels, one hundred-percent, live-and-die-for-you in love. It was something that hurt Rachel and not just because she was in love with Will, too, but she was intimately familiar on how things could end for Buffy if the slayer didn't follow her heart. 

"So," Buffy said, her voice shattering the comfortable silence. "Have you talked to Sp-Will today?" She cursed mentally when Rachel visibly tensed before forcibly relaxing. As well as they had been getting along the last few weeks, Buffy knew that any reminders of Spike instantly put a damper on their camaraderie. She could admit that she was jealous of Rachel's close relationship with Spike and that Rachel was resentful of Spike's love for Buffy. That's why, since that first day in the living room, the three of them had spent only a handful of minutes together, unable to diffuse the tension that choked them as a trio. 

"Yeah," Rachel said, her voice clawing over the lump in her throat. "Earlier today. We—uh, we were looking at some things. Places to establish another _Blue Song."_

"So, did you guys find a place?" 

"He did," Rachel answered sourly. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply for her lack of strength. When did it get so hard? Hell, she had lived with Will for two years, most of that time in love with him and yet, talking about him, about his future was harder now than it was when she would stop things from going to far between them. 

"Rachel?" Buffy called for the third time and the other woman finally looked at her, her obsidian eyes filled with pain. "Are you okay?" She asked and laid her hand against he bronze arm of the other woman. 

__

Yes, Rachel wanted to lie but the words refused to form. Not until today had his name caused such a deep, bellyaching pain within her. When she had kissed him earlier, Rachel had known if he asked her to, she would have made love to him then and there. Why now, after all the other opportunities had come and gone, did she feel betrayed by her own resolve? Why now did she not care whether or not he looked at her afterwards with blue eyes tinged with guilt? Why was something inside of her screaming to act, to find him and beg him to take her anyway he wanted? She wished so much she had the answer to those questions but said answers alluded her with the ease of a breeze slipping through one's fingertips. 

"So," she finally said, "are you finished with those potatoes?" 

Buffy stared at Rachel for several beats, studying the contours of the other woman's face. And as good as Rachel was at hiding it, Buffy saw the other woman's sorrow as clear as a mirrored reflection; the same face Buffy saw for nearly a year after she was resurrected. Even now, the pain glanced at her through hazel eyes though she pushed it away. The bitterness that still sometimes nagged at Buffy over it was minute but sometimes--

"Ready," Buffy said, shaking the viscous web of her thoughts away. She dumped the potatoes into the boiling water before putting the lid on the pan. She turned back around and gave Rachel a tentative smile. "So, you wanna go ahead and dish out the salad? We can eat at the table while we wait for the rest of the food to get finished cooking." 

"Sounds good to me," Rachel said and used the tongs to divvy up the salad. Two minutes later, both women were lost in their salads, lost in thought and they stared at anything but one another. Buffy took great interest in the ranch dressing that slithered over the lettuce and carrot sprinkles. Something about that little thing drew her in, a deep, burning flame whispering promises of forever to the small-minded moth. 

"You know," Buffy said, eyeing the piece of lettuce harpooned at the end of her fork, "as much as I like salads, they do nothing for my appetite." 

"Tell me about it," Rachel agreed. "All they do is piss me off even more. Especially if I'm as hungry as I am now." 

"Too true." 

"I'll take a nice, healthy steak any day," the dark haired woman continued "and bugger all the calories." Buffy laughed at that before stuffing another leaf of salad into her mouth. 

"Well, since neither of us are connoisseurs of steak makage _not _of the wooden kind, we're gonna have to make do with this lovely salad." 

"And the fries getting the boiling treatment." 

"And," Buffy said before standing, "the extra large pizza I'm about to call in with sausage and pepperoni." 

Rachel laughed as Buffy walked out the room before calling out to the blonde, "What? No Anchovies." 

Her query wasn't dignified with a response. 

*&*

"Now _that _is a man I wouldn't mind showing the ropes to," Rachel says to me. After the pizza came, we decided to have a girl's night in, so to speak which, to me, is quite amusing considering our interests lie in the same guy. 

"He's alright," I concede. Rachel sits up and stares at me incredulously. 

"Colin Farrell's only "alright"? Are you tripping, girl? Did you see him in _Daredevil_ with that leather trench of his? Oh. My. God. Talk about taking a piece out of someone." 

"So you gotta thing for guys in leather coats, huh?" 

Rachel gives me a lecherous grin before replying. "Doesn't every girl?" 

A brief thought of Angel flitters through my mind before Spike is front and center on the plasma screen in my brain. "You can say that again," I say as I think of the fluid grace Spike always moved with, how his duster always billowed in the wind, curling to his body. Talk about sex on two legs. God, he was hot. 

"Who was hot?" Rachel asks me and I gasp, realizing that I said it out loud. "Buffy?" 

"Uh, ah…" Great. Tongue-tied Buffy's making an appearance in front of company. "I--I was just thinking a-about this movie. The Matrix! Yeah, and Keanu Reeves. A-and Lawrence Fishburne. Talk about hot. Wow." I fan myself to sell it but I can see by the look in her eyes that she's not buying it. 

"Well that's one thing you and Will have in common." 

I frown. "What's that?" 

"You're both terrible liars." I roll my eyes at her and return my attention back to the screen. She studies me for a few seconds before she, too, is caught up in the movie. 

We watch the rest of it in silence but right after the ending credits Rachel grabs the remote and turns it off. I open my mouth to say something sarcastic but the seriousness in her eyes halts my words. 

"Rachel? Something wrong?" I don't like the look I'm seeing. It's filled with a sadness and bitterness that I can relate to. 

She puts her thumb to her lips and starts nibbling on her nail. I refrain from repeating my question and soften my gaze so she won't feel so pressured. I wait several minutes, watching her eyes dance across the room. She's debating something in her mind and as much as I want her to spit it out, I've learned quite a bit of patience these past couple of years. I may not be saintly with it but at least I don't blow my stack when things don't come quickly. 

"I was twenty-one," she says breaking me from my thoughts. Her energetic voice is so devoid of emotion as if she's narrating a special on algae or something equally boring. She traces patterns on the couch with two fingers instead of looking at me but I don't particularly care. I know how hard it is to tell someone things--personal things. And color me intuitive, but I have the feeling whatever it is she's going to say is very personal. 

"I was in my junior year at San Diego State. I was seeing this guy named Jared. Had been seeing him since the second semester of my freshman year. The first year and a half was an on/off thing. Some of my friends joked that we were each other's mutual bootie call but it was so much more than that. I mean, neither one of us wanted to really settle down although we were crazy about each other. It wasn't until a few weeks before the start of our junior year that we got the hint and started dating exclusively. By that time he had started an internship with a marketing firm in downtown San Diego and I had just moved into an off-campus apartment with my roommate of two years. We were together every night, either at his place or mine. Elise, my roomie, teased me about how we screwed like bunnies, though her explanation was decidedly more crass. 

"It was like we could see nothing but each other we were so in love. He was my first, you know. Well, maybe not technically, but Bobby Taylor doesn't count, considering I was seventeen and drunk. But when me and Jared did it, it was amazing. It was two weeks after we first went out freshman year. I know that may sound bad but he said the right things and he had me." 

I smile at her through the slight sting in my belly. Although it's been almost five years, I still sometimes slam myself for the whole Parker Abrams debacle. I wipe the memory away and focus on Rachel's words. 

"Anyway, like I said, we were inseparable. Everything was going so well. We had our tiffs here and there of course, but nothing major. Everything was fine until we came back from winter break. 

"He had gone with a dozen or so marketing students on a trip to LA for about a week for this lecture. Anyway, after he came back, things were different. It was so weird. When we were on the phone, everything seemed fine but when we were alone, it was like he was afraid to touch me. We still held hands and all when we walked through campus but that was it. When I would try to start something, he would go along with it for awhile but stop me before we went too far. Every time I asked him about it, he would throw off some excuse as to why he didn't want it. Naturally, I felt like he wasn't attracted to me anymore or that he was cheating. The only problem with the latter was that he still slept with me, held me close almost every night. And it was one of those nights that I heard him tell me what was wrong.

"Jared had a beautiful voice, Buffy, and he always sang me to sleep. Well, one night after he thought I had fallen asleep, he starts whispering to me how much he loved me and would never do anything to willingly hurt me. Before I could say it back to him, he told me how sorry he was. How it didn't mean anything to him, how he had made such a big mistake with her. At that, I whirled on him and was stunned to see him crying. I had never seen Jared cry before. Buffy, his eyes were so huge when he realized I'd heard his apology. As much as I wanted to hold him, I had to know. So he told me. 

"Her name was Sandra Mitchell and she always had a thing for Jared. She was one of the members of his marketing group that went to LA. Apparently they got liquored up really good and when Jared went back to his room, Sandra followed him. She started putting the moves on him and he kept telling her he had a girlfriend, which she should know that by now but that didn't stop her. She…she unzipped his pants and…went down on him." The last part is a whisper but I hear it clearly enough. Tears are rolling down Rachel's cheeks although I doubt she even realizes it. I remain fixated on her and she finally continues. 

"Oral sex was something I had never really been comfortable with. I did it for him a few times but never thought I was good at it, despite what he would tell me. So naturally I felt inferior if he would do something like that. We had a huge fight--well that's not entirely accurate, considering I was the one yelling and screaming and slapping the shit out of him. The things I said, God, Buffy, he took every bit of it. Never said a word. After I was done, I kissed him with everything I had and when I finished, I told him that was the last time he would ever feel my lips on him. So, for two weeks, I ignored all his attempts to contact me. About halfway through that time, I started getting these stomachaches. Talk about pains in the ass. I just figured that it was from stress." 

"But it wasn't." 

"You got it. Elise finally convinced me to get a check up. So I went, expecting nothing but a stern warning to get rest and eat right. Imagine my surprise when the Doc to me I was pregnant." 

"Wh-what did Jared say?" Rachel looks down in shame and I gasp. "You didn't tell him?" 

"No, Buffy, I didn't get an abortion," she says, almost reading my thoughts. "And, you're right, I didn't tell him at first. No, well I did, but--I was so horrible." The tears start up again and she buries her face in her hands. I instinctively move towards her and she shies away but not before giving me a hesitant smile. 

"I'm okay, Buffy. It's just that, I don't know. I--I was so horrible. I told him it was someone else's." 

"Oh, Rachel."

"Yeah, crown me the big Bitch. I didn't keep up the charade long, a few days maybe but it hurt him so bad. Even after he knew, it took him awhile to get over the lie." 

"So what happened?" I ask. Spike never said anything about Rachel having a child. 

"About my fourth month, I started having stomach pains again. I didn't tell anyone because I thought it was normal but…" she stops again and bites her thumb. I lay a hand on her leg that is curled underneath her and try to finish for her. 

"It wasn't normal, was it?" She shakes her head. "Rachel? Did you have a miscarriage?" She nods minutely before breaking down into harsh sobs. Without thinking, I embrace her tightly, whispering her to let it out. So involved in seeing to her, I don't notice my own tears falling until she gently pushes me away. 

I wipe the tears away in the same manner Rachel does. She takes several steadying breaths and when she finally calms, her voice is steady though the underlying pain is still there. 

"I blamed Jared for it. We were having another fight, nothing big, when I collapsed in pain. He rushed me to the hospital but, by the time we got there, it was too late. 

"Everything between us fell apart after that and it was basically my fault. I was short with Jared and he allowed me to be, especially considering what had happened with Jesse." 

"Jesse?" I ask and for the first time since we've started talking, Rachel gives me a genuine smile. 

"That's what I was gonna name the baby. Works pretty well for a boy or girl, don't you think?"

"You could say that," I say, grinning. 

"Anyway, I just kept punishing him for it. I never said that I blamed him but I didn't have to. He blamed himself for it. He blamed himself and I did nothing to alleviate his guilt because I was stuck second-guessing my own decisions. That's what hurts so much. The fact that the guilt I felt for what happened, by not telling people of my stomach pains, I put off on him. 

"Halfway through the summer, I broke up with him. Told him that it wasn't working out, that I couldn't be near him. Even as I said it, something inside me was screaming not to do it-that this guy loved me more than anything in the world and I'd be hard pressed to find that ever again. But I was stubborn and blocked out that annoying little voice. So, I moved out on my own and pretty much cut all ties with him. He tried to get in touch with me but I never acknowledged it. I didn't see him again until two years later. He came into the bar I was working at and when we made eye contact, it was like a rush of emotion passed between us. At that moment, I wanted to get on my knees and beg him to come back to me although I knew I didn't deserve it. So, I walked towards him and, before I got there, this woman comes in and puts her arm around him. Come to find out it was his engagement party. He had just proposed to her that day. Buffy, I've never felt as lost and alone as I did when I found that out. Of course, I went home sick right after hearing that bit of news." 

"Did you talk to him again?" 

"Yeah, but not for a few weeks when he came back in. We talked about things, apologized for things in the past. I wanted so bad to tell him that I still loved him but I didn't. Don't know what stopped me. And by the way he looked at me he still loved me. Or so I liked to think. But I said nothing and we parted almost friends.

"Since then, I've seen him a few times but we email each other probably once every few weeks. He's still married, has a kid. Lives in Modesto." 

"I'm sorry, Rachel," are the only words that come to me. After what she's told me, the words seem so lame. 

"Don't be, Buffy," she says and smiles sadly. "Just don't make the same mistake." 

"Wh-what do you mean?" 

"Buffy, we both know that there are a few things we have in common. Thinking Colin Farrell's a hottie, queens of quip and we're both in love with the same guy." Before I can protest, she holds a hand up to me. 

"Don't deny it, Buffy, I can see it in the way you look at him, the way you tense whenever I mention his name. Trust me, I know the signs."

"But I-but…" Oh, great. Another appearance of the fantastic stuttering slayer. 

"But what? Garrett? Oh, I know you love him, too, Buffy. But what you feel for Will, what you two feel for each other is so much deeper than love."

"What are you trying to say? That we're soul mates?" 

She smiles ruefully. "Something like that."

"Sorry, but I don't believe in soul mates anymore," I say, trying to be perky. She doesn't fall for it. 

"You don't get it, Buffy. It doesn't matter whether you believe in something or not. Doesn't make it any less true." 

I open my mouth to say something but I refrain, seeing the harsh truth of her words. I wish it was that easy but it's not. Just another lesson I've learned the hard way. 

"Buffy," she says, startling me back into reality. "I'm leaving in the next two days. Going back to San Diego." 

"Oh." 

"Don't get too broken up about it, sister," she jibes. 

"Don't worry, I won't," I tease. 

"I can't be around him anymore." Her voice is so small when she says it. "I had resisted him at least a half dozen times when we were in San Diego. I knew he was attracted to me, wanted me, but he didn't love me. He'd told me all about you and I knew--I know he'll never feel that way about me. But I'm tired of fighting, Buffy." 

"So what are you saying?" I ask, not liking where this is headed. 

"What I'm saying is that, if you don't give him a chance, or hurt him, then I'll be there. And I won't resist him again."

A part of me is furious at that but I know I have no right to be. I take a few steadying breaths to remove the malice from my voice when I speak. "So you would be with him even if he doesn't…" 

"Even if, Buffy. Even if." We are quiet for awhile, lost in our own thoughts when Rachel sits up, grabbing her purse. 

"I better be going."

"Yeah," I say and look at the clock. It's quarter to twelve. "Wow, time sure flies when you're having fun." 

"Or an intense bonding night." We both laugh as I escort her to the door. When she walks past the threshold, she turns to me and gives me a tight hug. 

"Thank you, Buffy."

"But I didn't…" 

"Just for being there. And Buffy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't…don't take too long. You and Will have been through enough as it is. Don't make it worse." 

"Rachel, it's not that easy." 

"No it's not that easy. Nothing good ever is. I know you love Garrett, I do. But, like I said, what you share with Will is something magical. Don't waste it.

"I know some may think what I'm doing is noble, but it's not. I knew Will would never love me fully and that's why I didn't want to start anything with him. But I'm tired, Buffy. I'm tired of being alone, of screwing things up. If things don't work out between you two, then I will be there for him. And as much as you may not want to hear it, he will love me. I'm not naïve enough to think that I would have his whole heart but what I would have, I would make last for the rest of my life. I can't fight what's in my heart forever, Buffy." She pulls away but not before kissing me on the cheek. "And neither should you." 

*&*

Buffy watched Rachel pull off before closing the door. She leaned against the solid wood and slid to the floor, the weight of her thoughts almost unbearable. 

She closed her eyes and was immediately assaulted by the truth of Rachel's words. The brunette had gone through so much and it was something Buffy could relate to. She knew how past events scarred you for life, making you hesitate when similar situations came across. It was a difficult thing, ignoring the heartache and taking chances. It had been something Buffy had never been good at. 

__

Well, at least her boyfriend didn't go psycho killer when they slept together, Buffy thought dryly. Despite that, however, the slayer knew that the other woman had been in pain over what had happened with Jared, still was in pain. And it was furthered by Rachel's love for Spike. 

The fact that Rachel had stopped anything from happening between herself and Spike after living with him for two years astounded Buffy. _Hell, I couldn't even go two days without trying to jump him, _Buffy thought. 

__

Don't you think that should tell you something? A voice shouted from the recesses of her mind. She jumped from the vehement tone and reprimanded herself. 

"Physical attraction does not a relationship make," she said aloud though the words even seemed hollow to her. Yes, she was attracted to Spike more than anyone, _ever_, but that wasn't why she couldn't keep her hands off of him. A significant part, yes, but not all of it. 

Every time they were together, Buffy wanted to be close to him, needed to be close to him. It was as if a part of her wanted nothing more than for their bodies to meld together, to lose their individual husks and be fused into one. When they had sex, it was as if he couldn't go deep enough, no matter the strokes. She always wanted more. She had thought that she went to him only to feel alive and, at first, that was true. But the more they were together, the more she wanted him and not just inside her body. She wanted to be able to wake up to him, call him on the phone on her work breaks to say hi, come home to him and have him rub her feet. They were all the things she never really had that she knew he would give to her without a thought but every time those thoughts came to mind, she immediately stomped them down, burying them the only way she knew how. Denial and causing him as much emotional pain as possible. That way, she had convinced herself that, not only was he not the one for her but she did not deserve him. It had been so much easier that way. 

"And it almost destroyed us," Buffy whispered to herself as the tears started anew. She thought of all the things that she had said; things she had done to him and the fact that he had forgiven her for all of it. Yet she still didn't forgive herself and didn't know if she ever would. Not completely, at least. So where did that leave her? 

__

'I can't fight my heart forever, Buffy. Rachel had said. _And neither should you. _As the words tumbled over in her mind, Buffy felt something within her, something she had long thought forgotten reach out to her. It was slow at first, stretching through her with a languid sense that said it had forever. Suddenly, it sped up and it burned the slayer to her core. She doubled over in reflex though there was no physical harm to her. The unidentifiable feeling continued to grow until it felt as if her skin was on fire. So many memories and emotions crashed inside of her, one atop of the other, nonstop. She wrenched her hands together, unable to do much more than that. And just as quickly as it started, it stopped. 

Buffy opened her eyes timidly; unsure of what she would see. When she saw that she was still in the foyer, she stood up and walked up the steps, not bothering to turn off the living room light. 

Her legs felt so weak as she climbed the steps but she trudged onward. The sluggishness passed as she immersed herself in her nightly rituals. Still, she was tired and after brushing her hair, she would sleep. 

"Fifty strokes tonight, guys," she said to her reflection and proceeded to brush. 

It happened on the twenty-seventh stroke. There was nothing particularly special about the number but it came none the less. She gasped as if all the air was sucked from her lungs, dropping the brush to the floor. She picked up the brush automatically, and when she glanced back in the mirror, it was like seeing herself for the very first time. 

And that was when she knew. 

TBC…

There's one, maybe two more chapters left. It's going to be sad when it's finally done but hey, I loved the ride. Hope you guys have, too. 


	22. Ten Thousand Words

Do What You Have to Do

**__**

Ten Thousand Words

Even before he reached his flat, Spike knew something was wrong. 

If a century traveling the globe, wrecking havoc wherever he went had taught the bleached blonde one thing, it was to note the change in the air when danger was afoot. The difference in the air was apparent but, despite the hairs on his next standing at attention, Spike didn't feel as if he were in danger.

He had sensed it before, this change in the atmosphere, when Rachel had left more than a week ago. At first, he had thought it to be nothing more than the ache of losing the one person, aside from Dawn, that had never judged him on his actions. Although the others had changed their opinions about him, Spike was still a bit gun-shy without the dark haired woman by his side. With that said, Dawn had been there for him this whole time. In fact, the two of them had reaffirmed the bond that had been formed the summer that Buffy had died. 

Spike smiled wryly as he neared his flat. He had just come from San Diego, having spent two days discussing personal issues with his lawyer and Rachel. Dawn had tagged along, having pleaded with him to take her with him. She and Rachel had gotten along very well, although it had been touch and go for a minute. Evidently Dawn had still had an inkling of doubt as to whether Rachel was still a threat to Buffy and Spike's happiness. Once assured that Rachel wasn't, Dawn had treated the woman like a second sister. 

"Buffy." The name tasted like candy as it fell from his lips. Spike's heart sped up at he thought about the last week spent with the love of his life. Though they had only been out once in the past week and a half, they had done something they had never done before in the interim; they had talked on the phone. 

The conversation hadn't been earth shattering--not Buffy professing her undying love to him or anything like that. It had been idle, pleasant chitchat, the two of them conversing about things that they had never given the other a chance to talk about. They had shared their favorite times together, their dreams and all their favorite things. It had been so new to Spike at first that he had to muffle the cynic within him that wanted to scream that this was Buffy's way of softening him up before giving him the coup de grace of 'I don't think we should be together'. The mere thought of that had driven him crazy and it wasn't until he was in San Diego that the full effects of those thoughts took over his mind. That had been when he had muttered something about it to Rachel and Dawn over lunch and, by their looks of incredulity and later reaming of not having the slightest idea about women, his negative feelings had been put at ease. Of course, after dropping Dawn off at home and making his way here, they had reappeared with a vengeance especially when he had seen that Buffy's car was nowhere to be found. 

"Get over it, you stupid git," he had told himself. "Slayer's got a life 'o her own. She doesn't need to be checkin' in wit' you everywhere she goes." Naturally, said pep talk did nothing for his rambling mind. He didn't let it consume him however and instead thought about the good times he and Buffy had spent together the last month and a half. 

In that short time, they had grown to be friends--something they had been well on their way to becoming before the nightly trysts had begun two years ago. Though they could never make up for the lost time, they had done an admirable job trying. No longer were they hiding behind masks of mock-hatred and impolite indifference, but they had openly embraced the chemistry that had always existed between them. Well, maybe not all of it, considering that they had not gone further than a steamy kiss against Buffy's front door--making out hot and heavy in a cemetery notwithstanding, of course. There was something bigger, something more that they had been sharing recently. And though Spike missed the feel of Buffy surrounding him, the taste of her sweat as his tongue bathed her, he would not give up the bond that had been established between them for such carnal pleasures. No way, no how. 

"Course," he muttered as he twisted the key in the lock, "it wouldn't 'urt to 'ave a little bit 'o Buffy lovin'." He smiled at the thought before pushing the door open. 

*&*

I have always been a brash, cheeky bugger, never one lost for words: discounting my human days as that nancy-boy "William the Bloody-awful Poet", o' course. Words, just like my Big Bad image, were a cover, a smokescreen, if you will, to protect William. Yeah, that's right. As big and bad as I was, as much death as I delivered on innocents for a hundred plus years, as much of a monster as I was, William--soft, sensitive, poet wannabe William--was still the driving force of my emotions. So my scathing words were the only things that prevented that side of me from crumbling to the harsh experiences of a century of destruction. 

Of course, there have been a handful of occasions where words failed me and, to no surprise, they all had to do with Buffy. The first time she kissed me after that bad perm hell-bitch, Glory had her way with me. When she walked down those stairs for the first time in a hundred and forty-seven days. And, of course, the first time I entered her in that abandoned building. There was another time where my actions rendered words useless, but that is a time I do not wish to go back to. 

The multitude of candles lighting the main room of my flat helps alleviate that as well. 

I drop my bag just inside the door and step across the threshold, closing the door in my wake. The mahogany drapes are drawn across the picture window, giving the room a supernatural glow. Soft music plays in the background and it doesn't take long before I recognize the angelic voice of Sarah McLachlan 'Building A Mystery'. 

"Got that right," I whisper to the candlelight as I walk into the room, the scent of jasmine and vanilla teasing my nostrils. I walk towards the television against the opposite wall, maneuvering between the rose petals sprinkling my carpet. Okay, this is just getting weirder and weirder. 

"You're late," a familiar voice says and I spin to face the couch. There, laying down, covered by a blanket, is Buffy. I gasp at the stunning beauty before me as she removes the cover and stands before me. 

She's wearing a two-piece black dress that clings to her every curve. A more than generous slit up one side gives me more than a passing glance at her shapely leg. Her navel peeks out from under her top, just as the imprint of her nipples is visible through the soft material. Her slender arms, one adorned with a magnificent silver bracelet, hang limply at her sides and her fingers slid against her thighs. 

Biting my lip, my eyes focus on her radiant face. Her cheeks are painted with a hint of rouge and her lips shine with the barest trace of lipstick. Her hair is put up in an elaborate bun and several tendrils of her golden tresses brush eloquently against her face. But as beautiful as that is, her eyes are what freezes me, pulling every ounce of love within me to the surface. Her hazel jewels shine like I've never seen before and, for an instant, I am looking at a love strong enough to match my own. Shaking my head lest I be disappointed, I smile at her, hopeful that she cannot hear the jagged palpitations of my heart, before formulating some sort of response. 

"Well, luv, if I thought I'd get this type of reception, I'd go away more often." She lowers her head and chuckles lightly before I notice her once stationary hands are now in front of her. I watch as she wrings them together, something that shouts to me how nervous she is. It helps me as well, letting me know that I'm not the only one with a touch of the apprehensive dancing in my stomach. 

"I should hope not," she says and takes a few tentative steps towards me, stopping in front of the coffee table that still separates us. She drinks me in with her eyes without any sense of timidity and I can't help but feel a bit uneasy at her naked perusal. I'm just not used to her being so bold, though, in hindsight, our conversations for the past week have started out because of her openness. Like I said, it threw me for a spell but I did get used to it. Don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing those emeralds of hers staring back at me. 

"And why is that, luv?" I can't keep the cynicism in my voice, just a natural defense when people seem too nice. And the way Buffy's actin' now just settin' off my early warning signs. 

I bite back the apology when I see the minute flinch of her jaw and, being the soldier she is, Buffy shakes it off. 

"Just because," she replies and reaches her hand out to me. I eye the proffered hand greedily, thinking of the strength of those petite fingers as they raked across my flesh. But more than that, the tenderness that which I handled them with after her resurrection. How many times did I want to be gentle with 'er but wasn't allowed? How many times did I want to hold 'er hand while we patrolled--hell, even a firm squeeze to let her know I 'ad her back. But she never let me and I almost gave up on that long ago and now? What do I want? What do I expect? What do I deserve?

All those thoughts and more are lost in the blinding light of Buffy's smile that beckons to me as I look back up at her face. I'm helplessly caught up in the storm that wages behind her and, before I know it, my hand is in hers. She ushers me to the couch, never letting go of my hand and instead keeping it in her lap. Her nails scratch idly at my flesh but I don't mind-- what with the vibes radiating from her. I don't know what she wants to say but instinct tells me that whatever it is will change everything. 

"So how was your trip?" She asks, her gaze locking with mine and the tingle that was at the back of my neck has crept decidedly lower. 

"Uh, yeah, uh my trip." Way to go, William. Bloody terrific. "It was good." 

"Did Dawn have fun?" 

I smile proudly at the mention of my 'Bit. "Yeah. That girl, I tell ya Buffy. Bit's just like you what with her endless torture of ol' Spike." She frowns not too nicely and I backtrack before I get a slayer reprimand. "In the best sense o' the word, torture." She rolls her eyes, a trademark of annoyed Buffy. I smile inwardly before continuing. "But we had some fun, pet. Took her out shoppin', hit a few clubs and the beach. Not to mention 'er and Rachel teamin' up against me the whole time." 

She whistles. "All that in two days. Impressive." 

"You're tellin' me. Those two bints bought drove me batty." 

"So Rachel's doin' okay?" The temperature of the room drops minutely and the tenseness in Buffy's voice isn't lost on me. 

"She's doin' well," I say but remember the look on her face when me and Dawn left a few hours ago. "Or so she says." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. She's a lot like you in that way, pet. So strong and yet tries so 'ard not to let others see how she's 'urtin'. But she'll be all right; she'll come through. S'not like I'm all that, right?" 

Buffy laughs, a deep, soul-filled laughter that, at first hurts me but before long I'm grinning at the picture of my beauty. God 'elp me. There's not a part of her that I'm not in love with and the desire to kiss her breathless is so strong now that my muscles contract from it. I win the battle and remain still, awaiting for what she has to say. 

"You still don't give yourself credit, do you?" I arch a brow her unexpected statement. 

"Not sure I'm followin' you there, pet." 

"Of course you don't," she replies and gives me the patented 'Buffy eye-roll'. Again. But her face softens and she reaches out to me. I close my eyes as the back of her hand strokes my cheek before she cups my jaw, a gesture I lean into and I cover her hand with mine, not wanting to lose this contact. I feel her close the distance between us before she plants a chaste kiss against my lips and I finally look at her as she pulls away. 

"Buffy…" 

"Do you believe in the luck of numbers?" I give her my 'what the bleedin' hell are you yammering about?' look and she snorts in disgust. "Numerology? Lucky number sevens? Unlucky thirteen? Stuff like that. Do you believe in it?" 

I shrug. "To be honest, pet, never gave it much thought. Though Dru was a bit batty for stuff like that." 

"What wasn't Dru batty for?" Buffy mutters and I stifle a laugh. Her jealousy towards what Dru and I had's still alive and well, even without one of Red's 'Thy will be done' spells. 

"So you don't believe that certain numbers have divine meaning to them?"

"Can't say that I do, luv. Why? Do you?" 

She fidgets in her seat, worrying her bottom lip. Cor, she's beautiful when she's nervous. Hell, she's beautiful anytime of the day, regardless of her mood. 

"If you would have asked me that nine days ago, I would have said no. But, since then I…I don't know. I would have to say that, in certain circumstances, yes." 

"So, what brought that change?" I ask, unsure where this is heading. 

"Twenty-seven." 

"Twenty-seven?" She nods before lowering her head again. To say this is a tad bit weird is an understatement but I'm used to weird, so no freakin' out for me. "Not quite sure I followed you round that last bend, pet. What's twenty-seven?" 

"My lucky number." 

"Is that so? Okay, so what did it help you get lucky with?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her and feign injury when she slaps me on the shoulder. 

"You're a pig, Spike," she says though her tone is devoid of venom but filled with genuine affection. 

"Sing me another song, Summers," I say and stick my tongue out between my teeth. 

"Anyway, Mr. Oink-Oink, as I was saying, twenty-seven is my lucky number."

"And how did that come to be?" The seriousness of her demeanor is enough to sober up my humor. 

"I was brushing my hair. Fifty strokes. I've been doing that for the last year or so. I saw it on an old movie awhile ago. I used to do when I was a kid but stopped when I started the whole gossip stage of teenage-dom. I use that alone time to let my mind relax--especially when I have a lot to think about. It really helps me step back and think about things. Get a better perspective on things, so to speak. Last week was no different. 

"On my twenty-seventh stroke, I realized what it was I wanted, what I needed to do. Of course, Rachel helped a bit." 

"She told me she went to see you. Tell you goodbye." 

"Well, it was less of goodbye and more of a girl bonding thing." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah. We ended up trying our luck in the culinary arts." My eyes widen at the prospects of those two in the kitchen but I like myself enough to keep my comments to myself, thank you very much. 

"And how did that go for you?" I ask, unable to keep the hint of amusement from my voice. 

"She told me about Jared." It's funny how quickly a single word or phrase can take the air out of the proverbial sails. I remember that story all too well and the grief that strikes me forces my chin down. I don't want 'er to see the pain that Rachel's words had on me nor the fact that much of what transpired between her and Jared was so similar to the trials of me and my slayer. 

"Yeah," she says after noting my sagging shoulders, "my sentiments exactly." We sit there in silence for a few minutes; one of my hands still rests in her lap and she absently strokes it. 

"We talked for awhile," Buffy says out of the blue. "Okay, so maybe she did most of the talking and I did the listening but that doesn't matter. What matters is that she told me, she told me about how she felt about you, why she was leaving." 

"Yeah," I say and my fingers touch my lips, remembering that last kiss of ours. She said nothing about it while I was in San Diego. I don't know how but Rachel didn't show that she was hurtin'. Not until me and the Bit left, that is. 

"She told me that if I hurt you, if I didn't make up my mind soon enough that if she stayed she wouldn't be able to say no to you again. Said she couldn't fight her heart forever and she suggested…" She trails off and her eyes roam around the room, looking at anything but me. 

I take her hands in mine and squeeze gentle, hoping to gain her attention. Although steal a glance out the corner of her eye, she refuses to look at me head on. Taking the initiative, my fingers find her chin and I gracefully turn her to face me. She doesn't resist and when our eyes meet, I swear that there is love in them but my attention is whisked away by the tears that I see simmering in her eyes. 

"Buffy?" 

"She ah, suggested that I shouldn't either." 

"That you shouldn't what, luv?" I ask though the answer is written in the look that she gives me. 

"She suggested that I shouldn't fight my heart. And you know what? She's right and I won't. Not anymore."

"And…" I try to speak but my voice is beyond hoarse. Emotions that have been building for more than four years bubble to the surface as I look into the woman that had once been my soul when I had none. She is everything to me and the remote possibility that I mean something to her is--it's something that I dare not imagine; not yet at least. I thought that she loved me once and wanted her to admit it. I will never forget the monster I became that night in her bathroom. No, I will not make the same mistake again. I won't 'urt her--nor myself. 

"And what is it that your heart wants, Buffy?" I don't understand why it was so hard to ask--no, wait, I do. This is it, right here, right now. That early warning I had picked up earlier, outside my flat. This is the moment that I knew was coming and now that it's here, I'm terrified of the outcome. 

I wait for Buffy's answer but she only smiles at me before standing and walking towards the stereo. She skips ahead a few songs and pauses it before turning back to me. 

"Come here," she whispers though her voice carries across the room. I walk across the room, a willing slave to the love I have for this beautiful woman. Again I am marveled at the confidence in her appraisal of me. Though my heart is out of sorts, I plaster the infamous smirk firmly into place and stop only inches in front of her. 

She turns around and pushes play before looking up at me. So much is written across her features that I have a hard time concentratin' and, before I know it, her arms are around my neck. She pulls me to her and whispers into my ear. 

"Dance with me." 

I instinctively settle my hands against her hips and pull her close to me. I never could say 'no' to the woman. 

*&*

**__**

Spend all your time waiting  
for that second chance  
for a break that would make it okay

I almost want to cry when Spike looks at me like that--with so much love and so much hope. I read in his eyes the same thing that I feel--how two people could put each other through so much pain, physical and emotional, and yet still be here, still be on that precipice of establishing something so powerful. It's something that I have no answers for and, to be honest, I don't care, as long as we come back to this. Back to the dance. 

__ ****

there's always one reason  
to feel not good enough  
and it's hard at the end of the day

Our bodies are also so in sync, whether we are fighting each other or as allies or we're together, making love. I know people, if they saw what we did would take us to task on the making love part but, hey, he loved me and no matter what we said, what we did when we were intimate, it was making love to him. I know that now. God do I know that. _  
  
**I need some distraction  
oh beautiful release  
memory seeps from my veins**_

He was my salvation, my angel that was there for me when my life was hell. I had come from the most indescribably beautiful and serene place known, thrust back into life on a hell mouth. Everything was so cold, so hard and bright, containing not one shred of the peace I felt when I was there, in Heaven. I don't know how many times I was this close to giving up, to taking a knife across my wrists to end it all: to get back to that one place where I was done, where I had no responsibilities, where I would feel no more pain and suffering. 

__

  
**let me be empty  
and weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight**

I had become a shell of myself, a walking husk that felt apathy towards the people I loved the most. It was only in the presence of Spike that I felt. And, to be honest, I had hated him for that. I had hated him for igniting that spark that I had thought was extinguished when I was accepted into Heaven. No matter how short a time I was around him, I felt things stir within me, things I wanted nothing to do with, yet I still was drawn to him. Of course, those feelings intensified to infinite levels when we first became intimate in that abandoned building. God, what I felt was so primal, so brutal and yet, in my soul I knew there was also a tenderness involved that I had never experienced before save for those eternal moments in Heaven. And as much as I wanted _not _to feel emotion, I still sought him out. The more we were together, the more I needed him. He was like a drug, filling me with some celestial high that gave me that glimpse, that small dose of peace that Heaven had surrounded me with. And even then, despite my hatred for him bringing me back to life when I thought I was the walking dead, I loved him for it. 

__ ****

in the arms of an angel  
fly away from here  
from this dark cold hotel room  
and the endlessness that you fear

The few times where I didn't run off right away and I laid atop of him, exhausted beyond comprehension, I thought of him as my angel. He was a marble masterpiece, smooth yet rough, hard yet soft in flesh. My hands would travel across his bare flesh and, even in the dark, I felt his eyes wander across my skin, he would stare at me as if, by will alone, he could force me to look into his eyes. I told myself for so long that I didn't want to see the love that would stare out at me because I wanted him as nothing more than a fuck-toy. I know it sounds harsh but that's how I felt. But, if I were to be honest, that was not the reason that I did not look at him. No, it was more frightening that that. 

Somewhere in my mind, during those barest of seconds when my walls were down, I knew. I knew that even in the musty crypt, if I looked into those cerulean eyes of his, I would never leave his side. I would become a prisoner to the love he had for me, to the love I was developing for him. 

And it terrified me more than anything I have ever faced. 

__

  
**you are pulled from the wreckage  
of your silent reverie  
you're in the arms of the angel  
may you find some comfort there**

Spike pulled me from the destruction I would have wrought on myself and those around me. Those few times where I let him hold me, Spike was my angel and those few minutes of respite were the only times where I didn't want to end it. He gave me back my life and I don't know if I ever truly thanked him for it. 

"Thank you," I whisper. _  
  
**so tired of the straight line**_

and everywhere you turn  
there's vultures and thieves at your back

He motions to speak but I silence him with a simple brush of my lips across his. Afterwards, I lay my head against his chest; my ears attune to the staccato rhythm of his heart. I still can't believe he's alive but hasn't he always been? At least to me. 

He was a soulless vampire who fought at my side, who always had my back even when I didn't want him to. He would have had you think that it was because demons were the only things he could hurt but he's a lie. He didn't need me for that. Hell, let me die and there'd be more demons to fight. No, he was there for me even before I knew he felt anything but hate for me. And even when I patrolled solo, rarely was I alone. 

__

  
**and the storm keeps on twisting  
you keep on building the lie  
that you make up for all that you lack**

But as much as he was there for me, as much as he loved me, I never believed it. I was thankful for his help but rarely gave him credit. It was easier to insult him with my words, mock his love than to admit that, during that time, he had more love in him than I did. He had been the man and I had been the monster. Spike was the beauty to my beast and I knew it. So what did I do? I made sure he knew that he meant nothing to me, that he was this horrible thing and would never amount to anything. 

In short, I lied. But it wasn't until later that I realized that I was lying to myself more than to him. 

__

  
**it don't make no difference  
escaping one last time  
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh  
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees**

Lying to myself made things easier, simpler for a little while. I can't help but laugh at that. Those were the same words that I told him when I broke it off. I told him that it was killing me being with him and I wasn't lying there. What I failed to mention, however, was the important fact that I was wilting on the inside because of my inability to admit that I cared for him. I knew that if I did, he would not relent, he would drag me, kicking and screaming into the harsh light of day, a light that, at that time, I was still not ready to face. 

"You weren't killing me, Spike," I say and look up at him. Everything is blurry at first and not until a velvet fingers caresses my face do I realize that I am crying. 

"What's wrong, luv?" His voice is so soft, so full of love, that I want nothing more than to bury my face into his chest and cry. I want nothing more than to have him wrap his strong arms around my body and whisper to me how everything will be fine. I want nothing but Spike and the love that he has carried for me for the past four plus years. 

**__**

in the arms of an angel  
fly away from here

"When we broke up, I told you that being with you was killing me. But I lied. It wasn't being with you that was doing it but my own refusal to admit how I really felt for you." The tears come faster as the memories of how I treated him assault my mind.

"Buffy," he says and I can see his eyes clouding over as well. He strokes my cheek with one hand as the other tightens around my waist. "Don't be sorry. I was bad for you then. You did the right thing, callin' it off like you did. Would dragged you down in tha' darkness had you not.

"I was the one that was wrong, luv. So selfish, I was, trying to pull you down when I saw you were so vulnerable." He lowers his eyes. "I didn't deserve you then and I don't deserve you now." 

"Bullshit," I whisper fiercely and force him to look me in the eye. He does so hesitantly and he cocks his head in surprise at what he sees in my eyes. 

"We were both wrong then, Spike. But as bad as you think you were, I was the real monster. I was the one who used and abused you for my own…I was the one who was the creature of darkness. You had been trying so long to come up into the light and every time you got closer to it, I pushed you back down into the darkness." He closes his eyes and two large tears fall from underneath his elegant lashes. Without even thinking, I pull him to me and catch one on the tip of my tongue. He opens his eyes in surprise and our gazes lock. I never break eye contact as I find the second tear track and run my tongue up along his cheek, stopping right below his eye. 

**__**

from this dark cold hotel room  
and the endlessness that you fear

"And as far as not deserving me, Spike, don't be silly. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be cared for and loved more than anyone I know. You have done so much because you love me. You loved me without a soul and you love me with one. No one else could say that. I'm the one who doesn't deserve to have someone love me so completely…" 

"Buffy," he interrupts but I silence him with a kiss. This kiss, however, is not so innocent. My tongue is the first to break through the barriers of our lips but his soon follows. Our bodies writhe against the other and I am painfully aware of his erection pressing into my stomach. My hands move from around his neck to his back and I run them underneath his shirt, excited by the contours of his back. God, I love his back. And, hey, his ass. But it doesn't stop there, I love everything about his body, I love everything about his mind, I love everything about his soul. And you know what? I think I always have. 

I break the kiss and we both are panting for air. My waistline burns from where his fingernails dug into my flesh but I am too caught up into the cerulean jewels staring down at me to care. 

**__**

you are pulled from the wreckage  
of your silent reverie

"I love you," I say instinctively and Spike's eyes widen comically before a shadow passes over his face and he looks away. 

"Buffy," he says and I hear the bowstring of his heart barely holding together. I know that this is the moment for us. If I was so heartless to take it back, I would destroy this angel of mine, possibly beyond repair. And the way his fingers have reclaimed their territory into my flesh, I know that he is preparing for that potentiality. 

"Spike, look at me." He reluctantly tears his gaze from the wall behind me and looks me in the eye. I want to cry for the pain hidden there, pain I caused because I couldn't admit that a soulless creature could love me. 

"I. Love. You." I repeat the words and a sob catches in his throat. His teeth dig into his bottom lip in an effort to stifle the flood of emotion, drawing blood. I pull him towards me and run my tongue across his lower lip, sampling his blood. 

**__**

you're in the arms of the angel  
may you find some comfort there

"Did you hear what I said? I. Love. You. I've loved you for a long time, William, but I can only admit it now. I know that may make me weak and I know I don't deserve your love back but if you are willing to give it to me--if you think I deserve your love, Baby, then I will accept it. Who am I to reject something so heaven sent?" 

**__**

you're in the arms of the angel  
may you find some comfort here

*&*

Buffy moaned as Spike's mouth assaulted hers, his tongue continuously demanding entry past her lips as it danced and fought for dominance with hers. She squealed in surprise when the back of her knees hit the bed and she plopped down on the mattress. Even that couldn't break their kiss, one that had started ten minutes ago in the living room and had finally, after several minutes of fumbling through the halls, made it to the one place they wanted to be more than anything. 

Spike pressed down against Buffy, growling when her legs parted to give him access. They both had shed their tops already and the feel of Buffy's pert breasts rubbing against his chest sparked a fire deep within Spike, one that could only be quenched by losing himself deep within her. 

"I need you," he gasped as her nails bit into his sides, pulling him fully onto the bed with her. They both shivered when their hips lined up, and his erection that so desperately wanted escape from the prison of his khakis, rubbed against her opening that was covered by the thinnest layer of silk. 

"Must have you," the slayer muttered as her tiny hands explored Spike's uncovered skin. She couldn't remember needing anything this badly and the desire flaming about in her lower half drove her actions. Her hands drifted between them, briefly cupping the bulge of his pants before finding the locks keeping it at bay. She impatiently ripped the front of the pants open, and was pleased when his erection bounced against her hand. Spike tensed slightly at her light caress and Buffy smiled into his lips before she gripped him tightly. He spasmed in her hands, surging forward and the bed shook as his hands fell to either side of her as he fought to keep himself from collapsing. 

"Buffy," he groaned. His voice was husky with love and lust. She smiled again and finally broke the kiss. Taking a minute to look into his eyes, she was nearly overwhelmed by the emotion that raged behind his blue eyes. She had never seen them so dark and, at that moment, she knew that she has never been loved so completely by any one person. 

"I love you," she said again and shivered at the smile that broke across his face. Despite the situation and his need pulsing in her hand, Spike looked so much like an innocent child as he stared down at her. 

"I love you, too, Buffy," he replied as one hand stroked the side of her face tenderly. "You are my ev'rything, luv. Never loved someone so much before. Don't know what I'd do without you." 

Buffy smiled back and brought him down to her, her tongue tracing a line along his jaw line before coming to rest at the tip of his ear. "You'll never have to find that out, baby," she whispered. "You'll never have to find that out," she repeated and bit down gently on his earlobe. 

Spike cried out when her blunt teeth snagged his flesh and the bleached blonde's hands could no longer remain stationary. The roamed down to her thighs before traveling up her sides until they came across the peaks of her breasts, squeezing them roughly. The action elicited a needy moan from the slayer and she used her heels to dig into Spike's hips before pushing his pants down with her feet. Through it all, her erection remained in her hands. 

It wasn't long before Spike was completely naked and had divested Buffy of the second part of her attire. Now, the only thing that separated them from reconnecting was the simple scrap of silk. Spike took Buffy's hands in his, their fingers intertwining as he laid all his weight against her. They both gasped as he rubbed against her soaken panties. 

"You are so wet for me, aren't you luv?" Spike teased as his hips gyrated against her. He chuckled in satisfaction when she could only nod her head in reply. "You want me inside you so bad, want to feel me buried deep within your folds, squeezed by your heat." At every word, Spike got the desired result. Buffy shivered with anticipation and he watched in fascination as she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Her eyes were tightly shut and Spike planted butterfly kisses on each eyelid before he returned to her ear. 

"You want me to do everything to you, don't you?" She couldn't even nod her head but Spike noticed the change in her breathing and knew that she was close to orgasm even now. "You want me to taste you, to bury my face in that beautiful quim of yours, slayer. You want to feel my tongue lapping at your insides don't you?"

"Spike…" she said and he frowned. She was able to talk; well, this wouldn't do at all. With a quickness she did not expect, Spike maneuvered her hands together, holding her wrists with one hand while the other slid between her thighs. Without warning, he plunged two fingers deep inside her and Buffy screamed, her legs opening further as he dove deep inside of her. 

"That's better, pet. So much better." He continued a slow, steady rhythm while he whispered into her ear. "So, you want my cock deep inside of you, luv? You know it's only for you, don't you? No one else but you, Buffy." That singular admission was enough to drive the slayer over the edge and Buffy shuddered twice more before she came, his fingers still buried within her. 

Both remained still for several seconds and as Buffy tried to temper her breathing. She gasped when his fingers slid out of her folds. She opened her eyes and saw him waving the two fingers in front of her before taking one in his mouth and tasting her juices. Buffy moaned again, her desire for him tripling instantly and she ground her hips against his erection. Spike's fingers fell out of his mouth and he rested his hand on Buffy's chest. Before he knew it, she flipped him over and straddled him. 

"Well, well, well," he murmured, trying to keep his cool despite the raging inferno pressed intimately against his groin. "Knew you always liked to be on top, luv." 

Buffy only smiled, letting her actions speak. She ground her hips against the length of his erection and received a moan in return. Distracting him with her ministrations, Buffy took the hand that had just been pressed so firmly against her sex and sought out the finger still slick with her juices and slowly inserted it into her mouth. 

Spike coughed as Buffy slid his finger in and out of her mouth. She smiled down at him mischievously before putting her fingers to his lips and whispering in his ear. 

"You like that, Spike? You like how I taste myself? You want me to tell you how good it is? Or do you want me to tell you how much I love you? How much I need you." Spike held back a choked sob before flipping Buffy onto her back and crushing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. 

When he finally pulled away they were both breathless with need. "I need you inside of me," Buffy cried. She gasped when Spike ripped the tiny silk panties away and his throbbing cock rested delicately between her folds. 

"Please, Spike. Please," she begged and Spike shivered when her hands reached between them, taking his member in her hands and rubbing it against her opening. As much as he wanted to tease her, Spike needed to make the connection and, with one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself completely inside of her. 

Time stood still for the couple as they both shuddered in pleasure at the union that had been more than two years in the making. Blue eyes stared into hazel, the love passing between the two beyond words, beyond actions, beyond anything but moments like this, when they were joined together in such a way that it was no longer Buffy and Spike. It was one being, sharing thoughts and feelings of the two individuals, wanting nothing more than to remain like this, remain a part of each other forever.

Buffy was the first to break the stillness, pulling Spike forward and bucking her hips slightly to start the friction between them. He got the message and drew himself out slowly before pushing back into her. Buffy's hands cupped the back of Spike's hips, urging him forward, further into her. Each stroke was a bit stronger, a bit deeper and Buffy matched it with her own urgent undulations. No words were spoken as their hips crashed together and hands roamed the slick flesh of the other. Their kisses alternated between sweet and tender, hard and brutal. The only sounds audible were the desperate pants and the slapping of flesh together as both felt that familiar ache deep within their loins intensify with each stroke. 

Spike had felt nothing like this before. The heat he had once thought animated his undead flesh now gave his human body a feeling of contentment and need that was far beyond any words he could ever create. He had once thought happiness had been at the side of his dark princess for a hundred years. That had changed when he fell in love for Buffy but even that, even the burning, immortal love he shared for the slayer then was nothing compared to being inside of her when he knew that she loved him just as much as he loved her. 

Buffy moaned into Spike, loving the way her body was crushed under his and the sweat built between them. She had never been fond of this part of lovemaking but now it was all she could hope for. The man she loved, wanted to spend the rest of her life with inside of her, his warmth adding to her own as they moved to a rhythm they had perfected years ago. 

"Buffy," Spike whispered, as the buildup inside of him was becoming too much to bare. "God, I love you." 

Buffy felt Spike expanding inside of her and she knew that he was close. "Come for me Spike," she encouraged and pulled him closer to her. "Fill me up inside with you. I want to feel you warm inside of me." Her words, spoken to drive him over the edge had the same effect on her and Buffy's hips bucked to match the fervor of Spike's thrust. 

"Come for me, Spike," she moaned. Spike shivered as he felt his last reservoirs of control break and he roared her name as he spilled his mind, body and soul into her. 

On the warmth of Spike's release so intimate within her, Buffy cried out as her second orgasm took over and her walls clamped down on him, milking every ounce of his seed into her. 

The two lovers didn't know how long the residual aftershocks lasted and they didn't care. As Spike collapsed on top of Buffy, he breathed in the jasmine and vanilla scent of her body, a scent that now held traces of the passions of their lovemaking. After a concerted effort and protesting groans from Buffy, Spike slipped out of his slayer and rolled to the side, pulling her into his arms. They stayed that way for several minutes, stroking each other's backs in silence. 

"Can you say wow," Buffy said, breaking the silence.

"'Wow'?" Spike repeated in mock-disappointment. "You give me the earth-shattering shag of a lifetime and all you can say is 'wow'?" 

Buffy smacked him in the shoulder and her lip jutted out in a pout. "So my vocabulary isn't up to par right now. And where do you come of with the 'shag' thing?" 

Spike smiled at his slayer though she read the seriousness of his eyes. "Buffy, I love you. Anytime we are together, no matter what we do, no matter how soft or tender, no matter how bruising or passionate, it will always be making love with you. Do you understand?" Not trusting her voice, she nodded. 

"The thing is that as great as things were between us before, well at least the shagging bit, that is, nothing could compare to what we just shared tonight." 

"I know," Buffy replied as her fingertips slid through his hair. 

"And I'm glad that I waited."

"Me too." 

Spike smiled before ducking his head bashfully. "That's not what I meant about waiting, luv. I meant…I meant that I, er, well, that's to say you--"

"That I'm what?" 

"That you--you're my first."

"I seriously doubt that," she said, "considering how you and I got it on six ways from Sunday before. Not to mention Dru_zilla_ and Harmony." Spike stifled a chuckle at how Buffy spat out the last two names disdainfully. 

"Not what I'm talking bout, luv. Vampire then, remember, so…" he trailed off. Buffy furrowed her eyebrows at him before it dawned on her. 

"I was--I was your first? But what about…?"

"I wasn't what one would call the ladies' man back then, luv. Didn't get much action at all. Well, didn't get any action, if you wanna be honest." 

"So I'm the first…" 

"And only, luv. You're the first and only." 

"How do you know that?" She asked. The words were spoken so low that Spike had to strain to hear them. 

Spike pulled Buffy closer to him and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You and I both know, Buffy, that I'm your slave. As long as you have me, I'm not goin' anywhere. You just have to decide how long it is you want to have me." He lowered his head. Despite the conviction of her love confession, there was still that bit of doubt that refused to be beaten back. 

Buffy knew what Spike was doing. She knew the insecurities that he still harbored throughout the years and that they would always be there is some way or another. But she knew that, whatever it took to remove them from his mind, she would do it. And now was a perfect opportunity to convince Spike that she was going nowhere. 

"How does forever sound?" She answered and drew him into a passionate kiss. When they separated, the smile on Spike's face so genuine that she knew he understood her promise to him. 

"Forever's a long time, luv," he said, smirking. "Sure you wanna put up with me for that long?" 

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she replied and proceeded to show him just what forever would consist of. 

*&*

I lay here in my lover's arms, watching him sleep. He is so beautiful like this, his defenses down, face filled with love. He is everything that I have wanted and I was so close to losing him because I couldn't accept his nature. How wrong I was. This night showed me that, despite him not having a demon inside of him anymore, Spike is no different than before. True there is more to him than before but his love has remained the same. It's just as blinding, just as overwhelming as before and I know there will be times where I will be frightened at the intensity of it all but I will never turn my back because of it. Spike is here for me, he will help me through it all and I refuse to be the one to mess it up this time. 

"I love you," I whisper to him and my heart swells as he smiles in his sleep. This man right here means so much to me, he was my soul when I didn't want one and my anchor when I wanted nothing more than to drown in my apathy. He would do anything for me and, as I lay here studying his sleeping form, I realize there is nothing I wouldn't do for him. 

It seems like forever since me and Angel were together. I had thought that he was the one for me, my soul mate. And though a part of me will always love him, I understand now that, what I felt then was a first love; uncontrollable in its burning flame yet it burned out nonetheless. He will always have a special place in my heart as my first love but so, too, I wager that Drusilla will always be a part of Spike's heart. 

Riley, though I cared for him, never had my heart. He loved me but I think that, deep down, I knew I could never love him. He was what Angel wanted me to have; a guy with whom I could have a normal life with but I couldn't, I didn't. 

Garrett was the closest to being all that I wanted. Not only could I have that normal life, I didn't have to worry about the abnormalities that came with being a slayer and how he'd react to it. It was so hard to tell him what I decided last week. I told him first because I thought I owed him that much and, as hurt as he was, he encouraged me to follow my heart. To never give up and to accept the love I thought I didn't deserve. How right he was. 

I don't think I deserve the love that Spike has given me. I don't feel I am worthy of the sacrifices he made for me but like I told him, who am I to argue? If he thinks I am good enough for his love, I have no right to deny that. I accept the love he has given me and will cherish it for the rest of my days on earth and my continued existence in the afterlife. 

"Sorry, baby," I whisper to him, "you're stuck with me now." It feels so good when he tightens his embrace and I get lost in the warmth of his body. We wasted so much time, fighting and not being honest with each other. I don't plan on wasting anymore. I vow to live everyday with my Spike--my William-- as a lifetime. Life is too short to be wasted and, thankfully, I was given a second chance to make things right. I don't know whether it was God or someone else that made sure I got that chance, but I thank Him nonetheless. 

There is so much I want to tell Spike, so many things I want him to know though I don't know where to begin. Ten thousand words wouldn't be enough to scratch the surface of how I feel about him. I only hope that he can look into my eyes and see the love that I cannot hope to express for him. I can only hope that he sees that I am his and his alone. 

"I love you, Spike, and I will always be here for you." 

"Till the end of the world," he mutters in his sleep and I smile, kissing him chastely on the lips. 

"A lot longer than that, baby. A lot longer than that." With that said, I allow myself to drift back into the world of dreams. I've finally found what it is that I've been looking for and I'll be damned if I let it go now. I've found love, life and passion in this man's arms. But most importantly, I've found eternity. 

And nothing can ever take that away from me. _  
_

The End. 

Epilogue to follow. 


	23. Epilogue

__

Do What You Have to Do

****

Two For Joy

September 2007

As I stare at the boxes lining the room that was the sanctuary for my rather unique journey from childhood to adulthood, I can't help but sigh at the memories that bombard me. There has been so many, not so much in this room as in this house. 1630 Revello Drive. It had once been a home to three beautiful women. Now, as I move on from this place, only one of the original three remains. 

I want to stay, really I do, but I know that it is my time to move on, my time to start my own life away from here. I had once, not too many months ago, wanted to leave the Hell Mouth, despite it being closed. It was the principle of it all. But now, although I want to start anew, with my husband to be and the child that is growing inside of me, I know that Sunnydale is the only place for me. 

I smile at the thought of my knight, of the man I thought I'd never have. He was there for me through it all, despite my less than loving attitude towards him, he never left. Okay, well, he did, at one time, but he came back and, in the end that's all that matters, isn't it? 

I play with the two-carat diamond that rests on my finger. I've never been one for jewelry but the instant he held it up in front of me, asking me to be his wife, well, I knew I'd never take it off. I cried when he asked me, from joy and sadness. I loved him so much--still do, of course--that I had been pondering whether to ask him myself. The fact that he finally did had been like a weight was lifted off my chest (yeah, I know, it's cliché). But I felt so much sadness, as if I didn't deserve him. Of course, my sister almost bopped me on the head for that, saying that who was I to question his love. After all, he was the one who gave me his love and if he thought I deserved it, who was I to argue? Of course her rant didn't take root in my heart until a few days of her berating me in a nice, sisterly way. After a few days of her stubbornly refusing to drop the subject, I finally accepted that she was right. Damn her. 

I'm kidding. I remember one thing she had told me, about being the last Scoobie to find happiness and she was right. It had taken nearly four years but Xander and Anya had finally worked things out. They had been dating for two years and everything had been touch and go with the pair, especially when Anya had come clean to him about her one time tryst with Giles right after Willow had tried to destroy the world. Needless to say he had been hurt and had seriously considered breaking up with her. It wasn't until Spike shook some sense into him--quite literally--that Xander had relented and mended the rift between he and Anya. Still, it wasn't until last year and the final fight over the hell mouth that he finally proposed. I don't think any of us will forget him getting down on one knee, his body covered in blood and slime, asking Anya to be his wife. She bowled him over once the words fell from her lips and we all shed a tear for them, happy that the battle was finally over and two of our best friends had finally discovered happiness. Now, the two of them are living in San Francisco--Xander is the partner of one of the biggest construction companies in the state and Anya--well, she's still a vengeance demon but only part time and no longer does she maim and kill. She's found other--creative--ways to assist scorned women. The other part of the time she's playing the stock game and doing rather well. She has ambitions to open her own store sometime in the near future. Those plans will have to be put on hold, however, since yesterday they called us to announce the addition that will be added to their family in eight months. It was a surprise to everyone that she and Xander could procreate, what with her being a demon and all. Luckily, this time around, Xander had fallen for every part of her. In fact, during the wedding ceremony, he had insisted that their final wedding kiss was done with her vein-y face at the forefront--his way of showing her that he loved all of her without reserve. He has stayed true to his word and I know that their child will grow up knowing so much love. 

Speaking of children, Willow and Kennedy are doing great. Okay, I know Kennedy is twenty-one now but she had been only seventeen when she and Willow started dating. Of course our red head Wicca didn't know that until a few months later but once we found out, we teased her mercilessly for being a cradle robber. She had been bothered by it at first but in the end she realized that this was a special case. Kennedy was a Potential Slayer after all although we didn't find that out until a month or so before that final battle. She fought so hard by our sides and had been seriously injured in one of the fights leading up to the final fight. After the hell mouth had been closed, Willow didn't leave her side for the month that Kennedy was in the hospital. She had been in and out of consciousness the whole time but finally recovered from her injuries. She still has migraines sometimes that only Willow can soothe but other than that, they are happily living across town--Willow doubling as a computer teacher at Sunnydale High and a freelance computer tech to several Sunnydale businesses. Kennedy just graduated this past summer with a degree in Physical Therapy. She wants to open her own massage therapy office and, with a bit of suave advice from Anya, I know she will get it done. 

They are so happy together and have discussed adopting a child. Kennedy even suggested that, if they get an infant, to name the girl Tara. Willow had been so touched by Kennedy's thoughtfulness that I had been worried for a moment that we were going to see a little too much 'cuddling'. I know Willow still misses Tara, we all do, but when Kennedy had said that, Willow fell even more in love with the younger woman. 

Giles moved back to England a few weeks after the hell mouth closed and we all had, more or less, accepted his decision. A few months ago, he called, saying that he had a surprise for us and that he would be in the states by November. He won't divulge the nature of this surprise--well, that's not true. Spike and I are the only ones that know and each time the others say something about Giles, we trade those conspiratorial winks of old, satisfied that we share something the others don't. 

Yep, the Watcher man is getting hitched. It seems that, after several years of estrangement, he and Olivia have come back together and this time they aren't letting anything get between them. Although I've never met Olivia, I have chatted with her on the phone and I can say that she is definitely the person for Giles. 

Speaking of G-men, my thoughts turn to Garrett as I descend the steps. I talked to him the other day. He moved to LA about a year ago, the manage a S&L chain there. He's doing okay, considering that, not six months ago, he found out what happened to Cynthia. She wasn't killed--no, it was worse than that. She was turned by a vamp 'cartel' that had migrated from San Francisco and had had the intelligence to stay away from Angel and his team. After finding out about Cynthia, however, Garrett and Angel had teamed up and eliminated said 'cartel'. That had been a little over four months ago and since then he and Angel have become friends. Gare even hinted that he has his eye on one of AI's newest associates; a woman named Meryl. Just the way he talks about her shows that he's really into the girl. Here's to hoping he gets the happiness he couldn't find in Sunnydale. 

As far as people _not _in Sunnydale, Rachel's supposed to be stopping by for a visit next weekend. She still runs the _Blue Song _in San Diego and has been dating this guy she used to know awhile ago. They've been dating for the past month and he's coming along with her to meet the family. Spike, who has remained close to her through everything, wants to meet "the wanker that broke my 'Night's heart". I haven't gotten the whole scoop but from what I gathered, Rachel and this Jared guy used to be an item in college. I wonder if they were star-crossed lovers like Spike and…

My lips curve into a smile as I marvel at the scene before me. Lying on the couch, wrapped in a lover's embrace, are the two people I love more than anything: my heroes. Spike has his back against the armrest with one leg dangling off to the side and leaning up against him is Buffy. His arms protectively hold her in place and his hands rest atop Buffy's on her _very _pregnant stomach. The sun cascades off their platinum wedding bands, an eternal symbol of a love that no one except for a gangly, naïve teen that I used to be, believed that they could find happiness. Of course, that was _after _I got over my crush on Spike. Well, actually, that's not true since, even with Payton in my life, I will always have that crush on Spike. 

Before I met Payton, I was so envious of Buffy and Spike's relationship. I think it was because I was lonely, the only one not to have a significant other in her life. Despite that, I still loved how the three of us--when they weren't boinking each other's brains out--were a family. We did so much together, still do, in fact. I know it sounds childish but I couldn't bear the thought of being away from them; that's the reason I went to UC Sunnydale, to stay close to them. Granted, that allowed me to meet Payton but, even if I hadn't, I would never regret my decision to remain close to my sister and brother-in-law. 

I walk further into the room and sit on the coffee table in front of them. They remain still and I smile at the heavenly peace that adorns Spike's face. I am so happy for him, finally getting the woman of his dreams. A tear comes to my eye as I think of the hardships they have been through in the last year or so. A few months before the apocalypse, things had started to get a little tense between the two of them and no one knew what it was. I couldn't get either of them to speak about it and it wasn't until after Spike lay dying on the battlefield that we all found out just what it was. 

They had been joined at the hip after Buffy had decided that she wanted him and, for two years they lived a life of bliss, never living together but rarely sleeping without the other. But when Spike had proposed, Buffy freaked and she started to withdraw from him. It wasn't anything big, at least nothing anyone else picked up--well, save for Spike. I don't even think Buffy knew she was doing it. She was so terrified of making that final commitment to Spike, the fear of her past failures filling her mind even though she knew that Spike would never leave her. Knowing that, however, didn't alleviate her fears. Not until he looked to be dying in her arms did Buffy promise that she'd marry him and once her words reached him, Spike had opened his eyes and gave her that cocky grin of his and said "Bout time you came 'round to seeing things my way." We all laughed at that and it wasn't a minute later that Xander proposed to Anya. 

Since then, they have been inseparable to the nth degree. Spike moved in about a week after that and they were married three months later. Things are going so well for them. Buffy's moved on from Sunnydale S&L and is now the manager of the Old Navy in town as well as the majority owner of the Magic Box. The latter had been a wedding present to her from Giles and Anya and Buffy had seen to it, well, with my help of course, that the Magic Box was more successful than ever. 

Spike is running the _Blue Song _he had built a few years back. It's not called the _Blue Song, _though as he went with the more poetic name _Soul Savior. _It's a tribute to Buffy, whom Spike calls the salvation of his soul. Yeah, it might sound cheesy to some but I don't care; it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. 

"What's with the tears, Niblet?" Spike asks and I stifle a scream at his unexpected query. I wipe my eyes roughly before giving him my patented 'it was nothing' smile. 

"And don't say nothing," he whispers and Buffy squirms in his arms before she settles down again. "Did that wanker of a fiancé say something?" 

"No, Spike," I say and let out a chuckle. Ever my champion. Spike really does like Payton but, from their first meeting, he had laid down the line for my sweetie, telling him that should he ever hurt me, he would have to answer to the Big Bad. When he left me that one time for about a week, after coming back, Payton was terrified that Spike was going to go William the Bloody on him. But when he had approached Spike without me in tow, he had gained the former vampire's respect even more. 

"Then what is it?" 

"It's nothing bad," I say and get on my knees in front of the couch. I study my sister's beautiful face and stroke her cheek lightly. "It's just that everything is so good, so perfect." 

"Seems unreal, doesn't it?" He says and I nod. 

"I feel like I'm going to wake up and be back in that fifteen year old body, running from Glory or going through that summer again." I don't have to say what summer I'm talking about. Even now, Spike flinches at every mention of that dark time when Buffy was dead. 

"You think I don't sometimes fear the same thing?" He whispers and his voice is thick with emotion. "You don't think I fear the day that this'll all be gone? I have two of the most beautiful women in the world sitting with me right now, I'm a productive member of society and I'm married to the love of my existence--not to mention that in two short months from now I'll have a son and daughter to raise…" 

"Son _and _daughter?" I ask and can't keep the surprise out of my voice. 

Spike looks at me and beams. "Yep." He motions to the envelope at the end of the table. "Got those today. A little girl and little boy."

"Spike," I whisper and kiss him softly on the forehead. "I'm so happy for you guys."

"Thanks, Nibs. Means a lot to me. And big sis, too." 

"So, do you have any names yet?" 

"William Rupert and Joyce Anne," Buffy's voice chimes in. We both glance down at her as she tries to blink the sleepiness from her eyes. 

"Hey, luv," Spike murmurs and kisses her on the top of her head. Buffy reaches back and rubs the back of Spike's neck. 

"Hey, Dawnie." She smiles at me and I plant a kiss on her cheek. 

"How you feelin'?" I ask. 

"Fine. Great actually," she says. "Well, if you discount that I can't fit into any of my clothes, my feet ache constantly, my back feels as if I was beaten by a gang of Fyarls and the fact that the good old doctor of mine suggested that me and my beautiful husband not partake in any extra-curricular activities. Other than that, I'm just peachy." 

"On the side of keen," I chuckle. 

"That's me," she beams and we giggle like two schoolgirls. 

"You'll be all right, Buffy. It's no big. It'll be over before you know it."

"She's right, luv. Everything'll be right as rain." We both stare at him incredulously and Spike ducks his head. "Ignore me, please." 

"We will," Buffy says and then turns back to me. "You just wait and see when you're in my shoes, Dawnie. Then come talk to me." 

I bite my lip, wanting to tell them about the news but I am afraid of what they might say. I know I'll be married in less than three months but telling Buffy I'm pregnant is a bit on the scary side. And that's not even mentioning what Spike will say or do. Still, I owe them that much, don't I? 

"So," I say, studying the pattern on the carpet intently, "I can come whine to you about all of the above in about six months?" 

"Well, unless you're six months, I really don't think you have…" Buffy stops as she realizes what I'm hinting at. "Oh my God," she whispers and her eyes fill with tears. For a minute I fee like crap, knowing how disappointed she must be in me and my face must show it because, before I know it, her arms are around me. 

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm so sorry. We were careful but it just…" 

"What are you sorry for?" She asks as her face is shining even more brightly. 

"I thought--I thought you were disappointed in me," I confess, "for getting pregnant and not being married." 

"Dawnie," she says and takes my face in both her hands, "I'm not disappointed in you. You're not fifteen anymore, sweetie. You're a grown woman whose in love with a terrific guy and is about to be married in three months." She glances down at my still flat stomach. "And your love has created something special, something words cannot even begin to describe. You're starting your own life with your own family and that makes me prouder than anything. How could I ever be disappointed in that?" 

"She's right, Nibs," Spike says and I glance over Buffy's shoulder and see that he, too, has tears in his eyes. "We're so proud o' you. All of us. And your Mum would be, too." 

"Mom _is _proud," Buffy corrects. "She's proud of both of us, of what we've done with our lives. I can feel her watching us, her little babies, all grown up." 

I clutch Buffy tighter at her words and we both cry at the sadness of not having our Mom here to see us, to see how far we've come. But most of our tears are shed because of where we are headed. We have been through so much and yet here we are, happier than ever, about to start families of our own. It's more than a dream come true. It's like Mom sent down a slice of heaven for us to enjoy until it is our time to be with her. 

"No matter how old you are, though," Spike says as he envelops us in his arms, "you will always be my Niblet." The conviction at which he says those words makes me cry even harder and I hold onto both of them as if they are my anchors to this world. To be honest, they have been for the past five years. I can't imagine life without Buffy and Spike and I won't have to. Me and Payton are moving in to a house two streets over, something I have yet to share with these two. 

Despite the tears, I smile to myself at our little family powwow. If you would have asked me three years ago if me, Buffy and Spike would be huddled in the living room, crying at the joys this life had given us I would have called you crazy. But now, I can only thank God for the love we share. It is stronger than anything we have ever faced and has been the one thing that has always been there. We may have had times where we hurt each other but the love we felt guided us through the darkness. 

Buffy told me once that the First Slayer told her that her strength was love. She told Buffy to do three things. Love. Give. Forgive. And she was so right. That is what this life is about. It is about loving those close to you and giving them your all. It's about forgiving their transgressions as they would forgive you of yours. 

In the end, it's not about power. It's about the heart's strength to do those three things. I understand that loving, giving and forgiving is what we are in this world to do. It is only then, realizing that, that we can make this world the place it was meant to be and I know that none of us will give up on that dream of changing the world we live in to become a better place. 

It is what we owe to ourselves; to our family and to those we protect. It is about making sacrifices without a second thought and being okay with no one knowing what you gave up to save their world. It is about doing what's right, regardless of what others may reason. But most of all, it is what we owe to our children. 

And that in itself, is reason enough. 

**__**

I thank everyone who stayed on the journey with me. It was hard and uncertain at times but you kept faith in me although I really don't deserve the credit. Spike and Buffy never make it easy for us but they did find their way back to each other; I was just along for the ride. 

There are so many people I'd like to thank for their words of encouragement (and, in some cases, threats) that helped me along throughout. This was a difficult fic to right, much more so than the Family Ties series because it was based primarily on emotions and relationships. Sometimes it exhausted me so much to write, that I had to step away, let things cool off a bit before continuing. But every time I came back, you guys and gals were there to cheer them on. 

I feel satisfied that this is finished but saddened by it as well. I had such fun delving into the world of Buffy and Spike even though, at times I wanted to strangle both of them. Luckily they made the right choice. Here's hoping that we can see such a happy ending on the show. 

I would like to give out a few thanks to some of my faithful reviewers. This is off the top of my head, so if I don't include you, don' t think that your reviews meant any less. Even those who reviewed once, I am grateful for the time you took to read my fic and leave your thoughts. I can't thank you enough. 

Daflippney, carosu, suzy, lia, jules Ivmyspikey, Raven (my NYC girl), Josephine Martin (whose second installment of her Magpie series is also titled "Two for Joy"--read this series), Mrs. Muir (thanks for the AOL chats that often got me going in the right direction) and Annastasia (loved the book-like reviews you gave me). I again thank all of you for taking the time out to review and give me your thoughts. Also, those that sent me emails, I thank you as well. I hope you all tune in to my Family Ties/Severed Ties series (for those who haven't) and give me your thoughts on those too. 

Thanks again. 

Darryl Jasper

February 22nd, 2003


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